My Love Is Basketball
by BallinBlonde21
Summary: Clary gets recruited to a basetball school in New York, leaving behind her family and friends, but what she finds there could steal her away forever. Is she willing to take that chance? I do not own any of the characters from the Mortal Instruments.
1. Prologue

My long, thin fingers tore feverishly through the envelope, nearly ripping the letter inside to shreds. I tucked my curly, red hair behind my ear, pushing it away as my green eyes excitedly skimmed the letter, reading over and over again the content. My five-foot stature was nothing compared to my speed and agility. My name was Clarissa Morgenstern, and I was the point guard for the basketball team at my small Ohio school. I squealed and clapped, jumping frantically up and down, my older brother eyeing me warily, completely prone to my happy dance. He frowned, a slight crease forming between his dark, deep-set eyes. "Did you put sugar in your cereal again?" he asked seriously. I had in fact been known to do that sometimes. I shook my head from side to side quickly, returning my eyes to the letter to read it again. "Seriously, sis, what's this about?" I was at a loss for words. Even the first few lines left me stunned.

Dear Miss Morgenstern:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been recruited to Prescott High School because of

your outstanding athletic abilities on the basketball court. We would be pleased if you would

join our school for your next year of schooling, sophomore year, and take part in our basketball

program. Your GPA is exceptional, and we look forward to seeing you around campus.

Prescott had the best basketball program in all of the United States. I shoved the letter into Jonathan's face, squealing happily in his ear as I did so. He shied away and glared at me. I continued smiling, my freckled cheeks stretched to the max. "Read it! Read it!" I chanted excitedly. His charcoal eyes returned to the letter, his silvery white hair falling into his face. He really did need a haircut.

"Did you read it? Huh? Did you?" I asked as he handed the letter back to me. He shrugged, and I immediately stopped bouncing. "What?" I asked, putting on my best pouty face. His dark eyes looked into my green ones.

"Um," he stalled. I groaned. I wasn't going to like this. "Prescott is an all-boy's school," he pointed out, apologizing quickly as he saw my face fall into a real pout. "Dad probably won't let you go." I scoffed. Daddy loves me.

"Watch me work my magic," I said, dropping one eyelid in a slow wink. He sighed loudly, turning away and plopping onto the weathered couch. I laughed quickly, crossing the dated living room and going through the archway into an even more dated kitchen.

"Daddy?" I called quietly, seeing him busy on his laptop at the island. Valentine Morgenstern looked up at me, with the same dark, seductive eyes my brother possessed. He could make you believe whatever he wanted you to believe with those eyes. His metallic hair was clipped tightly to his scalp in a short buzz cut. I reached the counter and began tapping my fingernails nervously on the laminate countertop.

"Yeah, Clary?" he asked, looking back at his laptop. This was a good sign. His thick eyelashes covered his irises, not allowing me to see them. This was good. This meant I couldn't be persuaded.

"Daddy, I got into a basketball program, and I really, really want to go." Valentine's eyes stayed glued to the glowing screen of his computer.

"Oh, yeah? Is it a summer program?" he asked kindly, still absorbed mostly in his work. He was a lawyer, hence the easy persuasion and successful career. I tapped my fingers again. I always thought it sounded like the song played when people in movies are riding horses.

"No, it's a boarding school. I was recruited." Valentine smiled, typing quickly on his keyboard, his long, sure fingers creating perfectly rhythmic strokes, no mistakes being made.

"That's my girl." My dad had taught me to dribble and shoot a basketball when I was in third grade. He'd taught my brother, Jon, too, but Jonathon preferred more contact sports, like football and hockey. "Where is it?" I sucked in a breath, knowing this question would have to be answered, but regretting rushing in here so fast and forgetting to plan.

"Prescott," I mumbled, biting my lower lip.

"Huh?" I let out a long slow breath.

"Pre-scott," I annunciated, saying it as if it were two words instead of one. My dad looked up at me, his shadowy eyes focusing on my face. "I know it's an all-boy's school, but I've been recruited! And I would really, really like to go, and I think it's a great opportunity to improve on my basketball skills and excel in school and—"I rambled. My dad finally cut me off.

"I think it would be great if you went. We shouldn't let an opportunity like this go to waste." He smiled at me, his cheeks creasing and laugh-lines showing. He walked around the counter and collected me in a hug. Over his shoulder I could see Jon leaning against the wall, shaking his head and smiling slightly. I winked at him again, and he rolled charcoal eyes in return.

"What's this lovely party about?" my mom, Jocelyn Morgenstern, previously Jocelyn Fray, asked as she entered the room.

My dad beat me to the answer. "Clary got accepted into Prescott!" he cheered. My mother smiled knowingly, and my brother gave me a thumbs-up. They both came and joined the group hug.

Jonathon whispered in my ear, "I told mom. You know she's the only one who could get dad to ever change his mind." I thanked him quietly, stealing a glance at my mom. Her green eyes, the ones I had inherited, glittering with joy as she wrapped her family in a hug. Her curly red hair bouncing with laughter, and her dainty pink lips turned into a smile while her delicate artist fingers gently rubbed our backs. I smiled and leaned in deeper to the hug, relishing in the moment, knowing that next month, I would be at Prescott.


	2. Chapter 1

I twisted uncomfortably on the airplane seat, my Carhart jacket and flower-embellished hat keeping me warm. I had just peeled my freckled nose of the window, finally being bored of watching the splotches of gray, green, and blue move below me. I sighed, turning my gaze to the boy next to me. He looked to be around my age, but I couldn't see his features. His glasses-clad face was shoved into a comic, his eyes flicking across the page, reading every line, memorizing every picture. I tucked my fiery red hair behind my ear, wondering if I should make conversation or not. His dark hair fell over him, like a veil that kept out the outside world. I poked him lightly, looking at him shyly as he glanced up. Behind his glasses, his almond eyes were a rich brown color, like plain coffee. "Hello," I greeted quietly.

The boy's lips pulled up in a smiled, "Hey," he said coolly, "I was wondering when you were going to talk to me." I laughed quietly, sticking out my pale hand for him to shake, which happened to be one of the most awkward handshakes I had ever shared with anyone since we were sitting next to each other on a compacted airplane. "I'm Simon."

"I'm Clary." We sat in silence for a moment. "So…you like comics?" I asked smoothly, as if it was a question I asked frequently. I looked at me for a moment, and I gestured to the worn copy of _Spiderman_ in his hand.

"Oh, um, yeah, I just read a lot." He put the comic away in the seat pocket.

"That's cool." _Awkward_, I thought.

"So, what do you like to do?"

I maimed a shot, "Basketball." I smiled slightly; even the word could make me smile.

"Sweet, my old roommate used to ball."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he didn't like me much, but I was just the garage-band type, and he was a total jock."

"I see…" I fixed my hat, stretching my arms and yawning.

"Tired?" Simon asked.

"Yeah…" I replied, my words being effectively cut off by a yawn.

"What are you doing in New York this time of year?"

"I'm going to a boarding school for basketball."

"Sweet! I'm going to boarding school for music. But I secretly think it's because my mom's boyfriend doesn't like me that much." I laughed as he said that. He acted offended, "I'm serious." He shouted, earning an annoyed look from the gray-haired lady in front of us. We laughed loudly, purposely staring straight at the lady. "Hey, maybe I'll see you around," Simon told me excitedly.

"New York is a very big city…" I pulled out a pen and paper. "Here's my number," I said while scrawling my ten digit cell phone number on it. I slid it quickly in his hand and smiled. "Text me, call me, whatever. We can chill." He smiled and slid the phone number into his jeans pocket. I looked at him, realizing I hadn't even looked at what he was wearing. He had on a black Pink Floyd t-shirt and dark-washed jeans. I looked down at my red high-heel and skinny jeans ensemble, having been told to dress up for my arrival. I hoped this was dressy enough.

"I will." He rested back in his seat, shifting his face out of the sun and closing his eyes, ending the conversation. I laughed quietly, realizing that he was like my friend Maia from back home: Shy, quiet, and pleased with silence. The fasten-seatbelts light dinged on, blinking a mustard-yellow color.

"Thank you for flying with United Airlines," a voice said over the PA system. I craned my neck, my emerald eyes straining to see through layers of heads topped with hair-sprayed up-dos and fancy hats. Finally seeing through an opening, I saw a stocky brown-haired girl with a fake smile plastered to her blood-red lips speaking into a microphone. "I hope to see you all again!" The flight attendant hung up the microphone and rolled her eyes, plopping down in her seat.

"Hey," I whispered to Simon. One dark brown eye popped open. "New York translation: 'Thank you for bringing me your money. Go away and only come back if you're bringing me more.'" Simon laughed and started making his own translations, creating different back stories for each person's conversation. Soon, we felt the tires bounce of the pavement, then glide smoothly across the landing strip, the pilots guiding it expertly to the connection of the airport. "Well, Simon, call me if you want to hang out." I stood up and slid out of the seat after him, reaching in the over-head compartment to grab my black Nike bag.

"I will."

I lost sight of him as we exited the airplane. I saw the back of his brown head weaving expertly through the crowd and then it was gone. The tunnel was packed, people from wall to wall, all rushing and shoving. I almost fell as a man talking on his Blackberry ran into me. I stumbled a little, and he mumbled a sorry, rushing right past me. "Whatever," I uttered, knowing it probably wasn't going to get any better. The sound of feet pounding against the floor was constant, like a dull thud repeating over and over from the blood pounding in my ears. I groaned, finally reaching the end of the ill lit tunnel. I ducked around people, dodging children and parents left and right, diving out of the way of a security cart as it was on a high pursuit chase, obviously much more important than ensuring the safety of their customers. I found a bench and sat down, checking my messages. Both Maia and Jonathon had texted me, asking how New York was.

I sent Maia a text about the diverse cultures. I mean, looking around the airport, New York looked like it had many different peoples. There were the business people talking loudly on their cell phones, the tourists checking maps and herding kids, and then there was the modern gypsy or random hippie. I laughed, watching a large man with blond dreads and a colorful smiley t-shirt lumber by with a brown paper bag.

Next, I sent Jonathon a text about my new friend Simon, instructing him to tell Mom and Dad not to worry. I quickly scrolled through my e-mails, every single one of them from Facebook, about my friends posting on my wall. Each post was either a farewell or a "You better come home and see me" message. I laughed, reading Maia's paragraph post about how I had better find a man in New York, or she was coming out there with a big neon sign to point the boys in my direction. I rubbed my eyes and scanned the airport, noticing the baggage claim belt.

I sliced my way through the crowd, pulling my black suitcases off as they made their rounds. I set them on the ground and rolled them to the exit, the wheels humming along the carpet. Before I made it out, I saw a chauffeur standing with a sign that said "Morgenstern." I did a double-take before walking over there. "I'm Clary," I told him, trying to tame my frizzing curls.

"I'm Greg. I will be driving you to Prescott." With that, he took my bags and ushered me out the automatic door, underneath a canopy. Pulled up close was a sleek, black limo. I looked at Greg, but he didn't notice, too busy throwing my luggage into the trunk. Without a word, he opened the door for me, and I crossed the concrete to him, my heels clicking against the pavement. I crawled into the seats. The car was heated and ready. I tugged of my coat, feeling the smooth, dark leather on my bare arms. I leaned back and pressed my head to the headrest. I spent the ride watching _Twilight_ and _New Moon_ on the built in plasma screen TV and drinking sparkling water from a champagne glass. I peacefully watched building after building fly by and snuggled up into a little ball. I checked my phone, neither Maia nor Jonathon had texted back, and it was 4:00 in the afternoon. The golden sun hanged low in the sky, casting a warm yellow glow across the world.

Greg pulled the limo up under another canopy and parked, coming around to the other side to open the door for me. "How was your ride, Miss Morgenstern?" he asked, in a deep voice. I smiled, too in awe by the sight in front of me to answer. We had pulled up to Prescott High School. The building had to be around thirty floors high and had three wings jutting out of the sides, like the adjoining restaurants at a hotel. My heels clanked against the ground as I walked toward the doors. A doorman dressed in deep green ushered me into the hotel, greeting me by name. I smiled, but continued forward, slightly afraid that he already knew my name.

I looked around and was engulfed in fine riches. The lobby had marble swirled tiles covering the entire floor, completely glossy and without any visible scuffs. The walls seemed to be wallpapered in gold-plating, stamped with an elegant leafing pattern. A glass chandelier hung over a spherical fountain, water running smoothly over its round sides. The founder's portrait hung above the dark mahogany main desk. I walked briskly over to the front desk, my curly blond ponytail swinging in pace behind me. My purse hung off my arm as I leaned onto the counter, the balding man behind it eyeing me warily. His gray hair matched his weathered gray eyes. He sighed deeply.

"Sorry, honey, you've got the wrong school," he said indifferently, turning to a computer screen hidden behind the marble countertops. I looked around embarrassedly, hoping he would realize that it wasn't a mistake. He didn't. He didn't so much as look up and me and ask if there was anything he could do to help.

"Excuse me," I said, tapping his shoulder lightly. His gray eyes tipped up in my direction, slightly taken aback by my unexpected touch. "I'm the new basketball recruit," I said, defiantly ready to counter anything he threw my way. Realization crossed his features as he began typing speedily into on his keyboard.

"Ah, so you're Clarissa Morgenstern. I thought you'd be a boy, since this _is_ an all-boys school," he replied quickly. I stared at him, wide-eyed. Was that a compliment or an insult? He handed me some papers, and asked me to sign one. I hurriedly scrawled my signature across the line and grabbed the other papers from where they were on the desk.

"Um, thanks," I said quietly, giving him an awkward look. He smiled slightly and handed me a room card, telling me how to use it. "I've been to a hotel before," I said, quickly cutting him off before he made me feel any more like an outsider. The desk phone rang, and the man picked it up.

"I see," he said into the receiver, "Yes, sir." He hung up the phone noisily, looking at me again. "Mr. Prescott would like to see you in his office right away." I nodded, glancing around for the principal's office. It was behind a large mahogany door, with intricate etchings carved into the woodwork. Mr. Prescott's name was written fancily on a golden nameplate bolted onto the door. I knocked and heard a muffled voice.

Taking that as my cue to enter, I pushed through the door and found myself in a huge office, with dark, very masculine carpet and matching wallpaper. A thick mahogany desk sat on the other side, with a black-haired man in a business suit sitting behind a sleek laptop. I shivered at the drafty breeze in the room and crossed the room to Mr. Prescott. He motioned toward a chair and I took a seat, sinking into its lovely, dark green cushion.

"Ah, Miss Morgenstern," he greeted, extending his boney hand in my direction. I took it in my own and shook it firmly, then retracted my wrist to my side. "I have made an exception to the all-boy code we have at Prescott to allow you to join our basketball program, but mind you, I will not be making any more exceptions for you. You will follow the same rules the other students at Prescott must follow. You will be in your room at ten o'clock, no matter what time you decide to go to bed. I should not find you in the hallways after ten." He looked at me to see if I understood. I nodded. "Classes are only Monday thru Thursday from 7:30 to 3:30. You will not be late for your classes or your practices. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Prescott," I replied, military-style.

"Good," he thought for a moment, "Oh, and if I so much as hear about inappropriate happenings occurring between you and your roommates, you will be thrown out of this school faster than yesterday's leftovers, got it?" I nodded, and he told me I was free to go. I got up, not sure if I was ready to face Prescott's greatness. I shoved my doubts aside and walked to the elevator, glancing at my room key. My room was Room 418. With my past experience at hotels, I judged that my room was on the fourth floor. I pressed the button with an elegant four written on it, and it lit up. I watched the numbers above the door tick slowly by as the elevator packed with excited boys rose floors. When the doors opened on my floor, I left, feeling all the boys' eyes on my back, and I guessed they weren't checking out the back of my head. I shifted uncomfortably, following the signs to room 418, feeling eyes on me wherever I went. I quickly slid my key in and out of the lock and shoved hastily through the door, my nerve shaken by all the attention I received here.

When I looked up, I was shocked into yet another silence. My luggage was already in my room, perching on glossy hardwood floors. It wasn't a high school dorm room. It was a penthouse apartment. Prescott was loaded! My eyes drank in every part of the room, the white leather couches surrounding a plasma screen TV mounted on an interior brick wall. The living area flowed seamlessly into the kitchen, with stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops. My jaw dropped in awe. The walls were a plain white, but splashes of red in accessories lit up the whole room with a modern-sophisticated vibe. I spun in a circle, crashing into my new roommate, who had just walked out of a hallway.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he asked angrily. He towered over me, and his crystal-blue eyes gazed at me deeply, sizing me up.

"Um," I replied quietly, "I'm going to live here."

"But, you are a girl!"

"So?"

"You. Are. A. Girl," he said slowly, making each word a sentence. "Prescott is an all-boys school." I grumbled.

"I was recruited for basketball," I told him, watching as he flipped his midnight-colored hair off his forehead.

"Basketball?" he asked as if I was kidding. "What are you, like five-foot-four?" _Oh great._

"Look, can you just show me to my room?"

"You have eyes and legs. You can find it."

"Whatever!" I said, grabbing my bags.. "My name is Clary by the way, not that you care."

"Alec!" he called after me. "Alec Lightwood." There was so much confidence dripping from his words that I groaned loudly. I travelled down a hall, seeing three doors. They were all bedrooms. Two had closed doors and one had an open door. I walked into that one, seeing it was empty of all personal things. I claimed it as mine.

"I call the room on the end!" I hollered to Alec, earning a "Shut up" in response. I rolled my eyes, wondering if all the boys were going to act like this. I walked through the open door. The walls again were white, but a giant, fluffy king-sized bed took up most of the room. It had a quilted, black headboard and a smooth cream comforter. There was a walk in closet in one corner of the room and a desk with a red chair in the other. I dropped my bags to the floor with a dull thud, and then I flopped onto the bed and looked up, my eyes closing slightly. They flew open when I saw a mysterious door one the wall adjacent to the one with my bed. I sat up, glancing around the room. Kicking off my heels and peeking my head around the door, I saw an amazing sight for any girl: an adjoining bathroom.

The bathroom was state-of-the-art, with cool black tiles and crisp white walls. A Jacuzzi was set in marble with glass steps leading up into it. A large basin sat atop a granite countertop with a goose-neck sink head ready to pour water into the glass bowl. A glass shower with red tiling sat proudly next to the Jacuzzi. I stood in amazement, without uttering a word. I reveled at the beauty of it, _ooh_ing and _ah_ing at every new thing I found. I took one last look and laughed at myself. I was such a girl.

I stepped back into the hallway, colliding with yet another boy. Must have been my other roommate. I looked up because he was taller than me, something sarcastic waiting to roll off my tongue. Then I saw his eyes, his blazing amber eyes beneath a golden halo of hair. I knew this face, every angular feature memorized. I smiled, relaxing. "Jace Herondale," I asked, "how did you, of all people, ever manage to get into Prescott?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Finally figured out how to add these things. *Points at self and laughs* Yup I'm a blond. Chapter's kinda short. Not sure if I like it. Tell me what you think! :)**

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><p>Jace laughed quietly, his golden eyes sparkling with delight. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned.<p>

"Well, last I remember, you were buying papers online and copying my homework." Yes, last time I saw Jace was three years ago, in seventh grade, and he copied all my homework and constantly was penalized for getting his research papers online. Jace had grown up since then. His muscles had filled out, perfectly defined beneath his tight American Eagle t-shirt. He had grown about a foot, towering over me easily, since I was actually really short. His sleek features had stayed the same, his eyes the same blazing color of amber that could melt a person's soul. Jace's answer broke my staring spell.

"Ha! More like you were copying _my _homework." A small, crooked smile played on his lips.

"Whatever stops the tears, Jace." His mouth parted, mocking offence. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around my waist and threw me over his shoulder, taking me into the living room and tackling me on the couch. "Hey!" I hollered between giggles, "stop it! I can totally take you down!"

"Is that so, Miss Morgenstern?" He asked, pinning me down and tickling me. I collapsed into a fit of giggles, squirming beneath his hold.

"Stop…it," I managed to breath out.

"Not until you admit it."

"Admit…what?"

"I want you to say, 'I, Clarissa Morgenstern, am in no way shape or form better, cooler, or smarter than Jace Herondale.'"

"Ps, as if…I would…ever…say…that," I sputtered. Jace tickled me harder. "Stop!" I squealed.

"Say it!"

"No!" I pushed him off me, catching him off balance and pushed him onto the ground, putting me small foot atop his chest. "Ha! Take that!" He smiled, grabbing my foot and yanking me down on top of him.

"This isn't over, Morgen." I smiled. He remembered the nickname he had given me.

"You're right. Next time you'll lose, and then the time after that you'll lose, and after that and after that…see the pattern?"

"Oh, you did not just say that."

"And why didn't I?" In a moment, Jace was on his feet. He threw me over his shoulder and swung me around, barely missing the television on the wall.

"Put me down," I laughed, kicking and pounding his back playfully. I saw Alec walk in, his black hair perfectly in place and his blue, piercing gaze staring straight at Jace. I immediately silenced and stilled. Jace noticed instantly, turning around and meeting the harsh stare of our roommate.

"Hey, Alec, what's up?" Jace said awkwardly, setting me gently back on the floor. Alec huffed away without answering, slamming the door to his bedroom. "Okay, then." Jace's golden eyes remained focused on the wooden floor.

"I don't think he likes me very much," I stated quietly, falling into the plush couch. Jace fell back beside me.

"Yeah, Alec doesn't like very many people."

"How long have you been roommates?"

"Awhile." Jace didn't say anything for awhile. Then the truth came out in a rush. "When I left Ohio, my parents died in a car accident shortly after. I fell into a hole, dying my hair black, flunking my classes, and getting into more fights than usual." He smiled slightly. "The Lightwood family took me in and fostered me, picking me up and dusting me off. They paid the way into Prescott for me. They brought my life back. I owe my life to them, and Alec isn't one to let that go. You know what? I shouldn't be unloading this on you. I'm going to go talk to him." Jace got up and left before I could protest. I sighed, looking around the large room. Finally, I picked up an X-box controller, figuring it was probably Jace's, judging by the stickers I had put all over it a long time ago. I turned it on and began to play, happy to see that my profile was still on there, the avatar girl with the red curls tucked under a winter hat with a black jacket and gloves.

After a game or two of me dying miserably (I never played X-box. I just liked having a person.) Jace returned, with Alec trailing behind him. I put the controller down and shut the X-box off. "Wow, Morgen, you still are terrible at Halo," Jace commented heading toward the fridge. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Whatever." I watched him pull chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and dumping chocolate syrup into the carton, dropping marshmallows from the cabinet all over the ice cream. He stuck a spoon into the carton and began shoveling it into his mouth.

"Nasty," Alec remarked, turning his nose up and biting into an apple. I shrugged and grabbed a spoon from the drawer Jace had pulled one from and began eating out of the carton with him, tasting the sticky sweetness on my tongue. "Great, now I have two pigs for roommates." I couldn't tell if Alec was trying to be mean or funny, so I decided to laugh it off. I went for another bite, but Jace swatted my spoon away, pulling the ice cream closer to him.

"This is why I'm better at basketball than you. Because I'm good at keep-away," he noted, seeming pleased with himself, but then again, when wasn't Jace pleased with himself.

"And this is why I'm better at everything compared to you," I refuted, gesturing toward the fattening treat he had decided to call his supper. "You are what you eat."

"Oh, so does that mean I'm sweet?"

"Sure, Jace…that's exactly what I was thinking." Alec cleared his throat.

"So, Clary," he asked, obviously trying to be nice. I shot Jace a what-did-you-do-to-him look. Jace shrugged. "you said you got recruited for basketball?"

"Yeah," I replied quietly. Jace raised his eyebrows.

"Morgen's gonna be on my team? Sa-weet! Finally I get to show her up!" Jace said, shoving me playfully. I stood still, looking at the counter embarrassedly. My basketball skills had often got me called manly at my Ohio school, and now that I was at an all-boy's school for basketball, who knew what they were going to say. "Hey, Clary, It's going to be fine." I knew Jace was serious when he called me Clary instead of Morgen. I nodded, feeling the sudden urge to call Jon.

"Excuse me," I whispered, making a beeline for my room, feeling their questioning stares on my back. I fell onto my bed, pulling the sleek Droid out of my pocket. After skillfully dialing my brother's number, I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" Jon's husky voice said through the receiver.

"Hey!"

"Hey, Clary, how's New York?"

"Good," I said, holding back tears. I hadn't even been there a day and I missed my brother. "You'll never guess who my roommate is."

"Jace," Jon replied without skipping a beat.

"How did you know?"

"He texted me."

"You text other people besides me?"

"Ha, very funny."

"That's what she said."

"What? That doesn't even make sense."

"Does it not?"

"Shut up."

"Make me." It was one of our typical phone calls with playful banter going back and forth. Jon was quiet for a while, so I decided to break the silence. "Meow."

"Wow, I have a strange sister."

"That's funny…me too!" We both laughed, tears streaming silently down my face. I told him about Prescott with him _ooh_ing and _ah_ing at all the right spots. Finally after about two hours, my phone beeped, almost dead. I sighed. "Jon, I'm going to go." He agreed and we said goodbye. "Love you."

"Love you, too" We hung up, and I fell back onto my pillows staring at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

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><p><strong>Haters hate, Lovers love. Don't Care. Just give me feedback! Peace! :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 3

Totally came up with this while I was sleeping. Admitting now that I do know where this story is going, just don't know when it's going to get there.

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><p>"Dude, just leave it. We need to go. Now." I woke up to the sound of voices arguing by my bedside. I squeezed my emerald eyes shut tighter and rolled away from them, trying my best to ignore their words, but it was so hard when I knew they were talking about me.<p>

"I can't leave her, Alec. I know she can ball. She needs to come today, and you're just going to have to get used to me looking out for her. She's like my little sister. And plus her older brother's a brick wall that would hurt me if I let anything happen to her." They were quiet for a moment, and I shifted. "Look she's waking up! Clary. Clarrry," a voice whispered seductively in my ear. I clamped my mouth shut, forcing myself to ignore Jace.

"You have fifteen minutes, Jace," Alec said before I heard his footsteps fade down the hall. I heard Jace exhale slowly.

"Clary," he whispered, "if you don't wake up right away, I am going to be forced to get that ice bucket you used to love so much." I shot up like lava shooting out of a volcano.

"I'm up! I'm up!" I confirmed, rubbing my palms against my green eyes.

"Good morning, sleepy," Jace cooed, reaching out absent-mindedly to smooth my curls. I glanced at the clock. Six in the morning!

"Ugh! The coaches at Prescott are psycho! Six thirty practices on a day off!" I threw my pillow over my head, which Jace promptly snatched away.

"Ah, ah, ah, Clary," he scolded, happily smirking, "it is a student-run practice. That means, if we are late, we have to suffer the punishment that team puts on us, no matter how harsh." He pulled my covers clear off the bed and threw them in a pile. "Get up."

"Fine, I'm taking a shower, but," I said, giving him an ultimatum. I gestured at the covers he had so rudely pulled off me, "you have to make my bed." I waited until he started picking up the blankets before I hopped into the shower. Letting the warm water and bubbles run over me for a minute before stepping out quickly. I tugged on my sports bra, tank top, t-shirt, and shorts quickly. I walked out into my bedroom while brushing my teeth, to find Jace lounging on my bed with the basketball from my bag propped in his hands. He noticed me in his peripherals and lifted the ball slightly.

"Men's," he commented about the ball, "you've been training." I shrugged returning to the bathroom to tug my relentless red curls into an elastic band. I quickly laced up my high-tops and returned to find my room empty. Grabbing my bag, I rushed to the kitchen, hoping they hadn't left me. Alec and Jace sat around the counter, dressed and ready for practice. Alec's mature attractiveness paled in comparison to Jace's rugged beauty. Alec had on long Adidas shorts with white ankle socks and white basketball shoes. His t-shirt was green with a large four-leaf clover on the front, reading 4-H. But I barely looked at Alec. Jace had on a white t-shirt, with the sleeved cut off and slit all the way down below the elastic of his shorts. His shoes were all black Air Jordan high-tops with black Jordan mid-calf socks coming out the top. His blond hair fell around his head perfectly, curling up at the ends that reached his ears. I barely noticed the piece of buttered toast being shoved into my hand.

"Eat," Jace commanded, turning away to grab his Nike bag. I obliged, realizing how hungry I was. I polished off my toast quickly and followed Jace and Alec out the door, to the elevator. Apparently, they gymnasium was on the top floor. Jace pushed the up arrow, and we waited in silence until the doors opened with a _ding._ Jace placed a hand on the small of my back and ushered my inside, shielding me from the boys that followed. The thirty-two button had already been pressed, so we waited again. I watched the dial above the door move up quickly, stopping on a couple of floors to allow more boys in. Jace and Alec had formed a wall around me, so effectively that barely any boys had noticed me. The doors finally opened on the thirty-second floor, and we all filed out quickly, basically sprinting toward the atrium of the gym. I pushed through the glass doors with Jace and Alec flanking my either side.

The gym looked like an NBA stadium, with colorful lines painted perfectly and precisely across the floor, the Prescott Bulldog housing in the circle at the middle of the court. The glossy rims held perfect-condition nets and clung to clean backboards. I dropped my bag to the ground by the others and walked to the middle of the court where the team had congregated.

"Alright boys," a boy with curly black hair and honey-colored skin hollered, "huddle up." This statement was redundant, since we were already gathered into the middle of the court. "Lay-ups, full court." We waited for further instruction. "Go!" Two boys grabbed basketballs, and the rest of us, about thirty, lined up. Jace was behind me.

"Who's that?" I whispered, still facing forward.

"Rafael Santiago. He's the team captain."

"Oh," I replied, staring at the boy who was about half a foot shorter than Jace and had pencil thin eyebrows. I shrugged, receiving a ball from a passer and driving in for the lay-up. Perfect. I never missed my lay-ups, that was a given. We rotated through the lines for awhile, warming up, getting a feel for all the players. Jace was by far the best, with Rafael coming in a close second.

"Huddle up!" I heard Rafael wail. We hustled to center court, breathing heavily, sweat already condensing in clear, salty droplets on our foreheads. "We are going to Scrimmage. Paul and I will pick teams." A brown haired boy with dark brown eyes lined up next to Rafael. He must have been Paul. I waited, hearing names being picked one after another, waiting for mine to be called.

"Jace," Rafael called first.

"Alec," summoned Paul.

"Thomas."

"Aaron." And the meaningless names continued, until there were only two left: me and a boy with a blond afro and big nose.

"The girl," I heard Rafael say. I walked slowly to his side as Paul called the blond boy, Ethan, over to his team.

"Her name is Clary," I heard Jace whisper to Rafael.

"Whatever." Paul and Rafael extended fists to each other, preparing for a game of rock, paper, scissors to see who got the ball first.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!" they said in unison. Rafael's rock beat Paul's scissors.

"Shirts or skins?" Paul asked. Rafael looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to me, licking his lips.

"Skins," he replied, rubbing his hands together. My team began stripping their shirts off as I stood awkwardly, wondering what I should do. Jace saw my hesitation.

"Ralf, that's not cool, you know we have a girl on our team." Rafael looked at Jace angrily.

I put my hand on Jace's shoulder. "It's fine," I said, glaring at Rafael. I tugged my t-shirt over my head, my tank top still in place. The boys had gathered in a circle around me.

"I don't know about you," Paul said, looking at Rafael then back to me, "but I might get that confused with a shirt." Rafael nodded considerately, agreeing with Paul. Jace's hands clenched into fists.

"You don't have to do this, Clary," he told me under his breath. I shook my head, my red ponytail bouncing back and forth as I did. I pulled the tank top off me.

"I still see fabric," Paul sang, reaching out to tug on my sports bra. Jace grabbed his fist and threw it away from me.

"That's all you're getting," he growled between clenched teeth.

"God, Jace, have some fun! Don't you wanna see?" Rafael taunted. I tossed my tank top to the side and walked onto the court.

"Just don't go there, Jace," I whispered. "I didn't come here to start drama. I came here to ball."

"Check!" Rafael called to Paul. They passed the ball, and the game began. The world around me melted away, and the only thing that I cared about was taking that orange ball and slamming it through the rim. I broke away from Paul, who had decided to guard me, flying baseline toward the hoop. Rafael lobbed me the ball, which I laid in. "Two, Zero," he called. Paul snatched the ball before it bounced on the ground and took it out, asking for it back as soon as he passed it away. I was on him, playing tight defense. He didn't know what to do, just dribbled the ball around. This was going to be fun.

I stole the ball away from him, passing it firmly to Jace who was already flying down the court. I sprinted ahead of him, accepting the bounce pass he gave me, setting me up for the perfect lay-up. Four, zero. Paul was angry already. I was getting in his head. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he dribbled down the court this time, making sure not to put the ball in my reach. He picked up his dribble and went to pass. I took the ball from him, a smile spreading across my freckled face. I sped down the court, pulling up at the three-point line. _Swish_. Seven, zero. The boys stood in shock, not knowing what to do. I jogged back to them, ready to defend.

Ethan lobbed up a three, air-balling it miserably. Jace grabbed the rebound and flung it over his head to me. I decided to slow it down, play a little bit. I passed it to Rafael. Paul groped at my chest, and I shoved his hand away. "What, baby, you don't like?" I drove to the hoop, leaving Paul behind in the dust. He grabbed at me again as I jogged back down the court for D. "You know you wanna." I ignored him, focusing on the basketball.

The game continued, finishing at Fifty-eight, six. Thirty of the points were mine. The other twenty-eight belonged to Jace. Yep, we were that good. I pulled my shirts back over my head and threw my bag over my shoulder, ready to follow my roommates back to the room. Paul decided it wasn't time for me to leave year. "Come on, Clary. Let's have a little fun." I snorted, shoving him aside and crossing the gym to Jace. He grabbed my red hair and yanked me backwards. "Were do you think you're going. You think you can flirt with me like that on the court and then just leave me."

"Ha. Flirt? You took my _rejection_ as flirting?" This kid was full of himself. I pushed past him again, this time running toward Jace, who had his back turned. "Jace," I said, breathless as I reached him. He was talking to Rafael. "Let's…go." Jace's golden eyes narrowed in confusion, as I glanced backwards. His blond hair shook as he followed my gaze, filling my nose with the scent of his manly shampoo.

"Oh. See ya, Ralf," he called as he pushed me ahead of him and out the hallway.

"This isn't over, Princess!" I heard Paul call as I hopped into the elevator.

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><p>Review if you love it, Review if you hate it, and Don't Review if you don't like to Review. I write because it's what I love. :)<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

_Update! :) hehe how was everyone's Thanksgiving? Hope you like my chapter. Typed it up quickly, got inspired! And now for the chapter:_

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><p>My alarm clock began screeching at seven o'clock Monday morning. I curled my thin fingers into a fist and desperately punched at the bedside table, trying to stop the obnoxious beeping. I successfully knocked down my lamp and books, sending them to the floor with a giant crash. I groaned, hoping I had not woken the boys up. Finally, my fist connected, and the noise stopped. I peeled my sleepy eyes open, blinking my vivid green at the ceiling, trying to clear my vision. Once the sleepy haze had lifted, I threw off my covers and strode into the bathroom, grabbing my skinnies, boots, and oversized Cincinnati Bengals sweatshirt out of my messy suitcase. Last night, I had decided not to dress overly girly, in an attempt to ward of guys like Paul. I shut the door with a quiet click and proceeded to the mirror. The girl staring back at me was definitely not Clarissa Morgenstern.<p>

Her red hair was frizzy, her beautiful emerald eyes framed with purple bags, evidence from the lack of sleep the whole weekend. Her pale skin was nearly translucent, the brown freckles contrasting even deeper than usual. I squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush and began brushing in large, even circles, causing small, white bubbles to foam and pop in my mouth. I smiled at my reflection, making sure my teeth were white. Then I spit and slinked into the shower.

I stood underneath the stream of steam water for awhile, hoping to wash away the disgusting look of tiredness. I let the heat sooth my cramped and sore muscles, feeling them loosen at the mere contact. I struggled to get out, having to sternly force myself to step onto the plush rug and into my big, fluffy towel. With a longing look back at the shower, I tossed on my clothes and tried in vain to pull a brush through my wet and matted curls. Finally, I gave up, walking back into my bedroom and falling face-first onto the bed. I heard a knock at my door. "Go away," I warned grumpily, my words muffled by the comforter. I heard a click as the door opened. I didn't have to look up to know it was Jace. "What do you want, Jace?"

I heard a deep chuckle as his footsteps neared. The bed sunk under his weight. I finally glanced at him, turning my head just slightly so that I could see him in my peripherals. His blond hair was in a messy tangle on his head, his honey-colored eyes aglow with laughter. I sighed, wishing I could be just as awake. He had on long basketball shorts and a cut-off t-shirt. "You look like crap," he commented. I smacked him on the arm and rolled away from him, expressing my annoyance. "Hey, I'm only worried about you. We barely talked all weekend. What did you do when you were in your room all weekend?" This was true. After the Paul incident, I had locked myself up in my room and called Maia, telling her how great Prescott was and how great the boys there weren't. We talked and talked and talked. I called her every day, and each day she had something new to say. I called my brother and made up lies for him and for my parents, wanting them not to know so that they wouldn't try to take me home.

"Nothin'" I said, trying to wave the subject off, but only making it sound secretive. Jace sensed this immediately.

"You forget that I practically lived at your house for twelve years, and you think that I don't know when you're lying. That's basically an insult." I could hear the smile in his words. He was trying to make me feel better. I ignored him, swiftly standing up and waltzing away from him into the kitchen.

Once there, I popped to bagels into the toaster and waited, staring at the chrome shell, watching the wires change from black to flaming red. Though I had been staring at it, I jumped when it popped, frightened. I quickly spread a layer of cream cheese across the top and plopped onto a barstool, biting into my bagel. Alec came into the room and sat across from me. His black hair was combed perfectly black, allowing full view of his sparkling blue eyes. He had on khaki pants and a crisp, white button down. He sat with his head in his hands. With my bagel hovering halfway to my mouth, I stared at him. He hadn't noticed me, though I don't know how he'd missed the lively red curls exploding from my head. "Alec," I whispered. His head shot up, his short black hair making the slightest whooshing sound, the smell of shampoo spreading around the room, "you okay?" I saw red tear lines running down his face, ruining his perfect façade.

Alec didn't answer. He just pressed his palms to the granite counter and angrily lifted himself off the barstool, huffing toward his bedroom. I sighed, lifting the bagel into my mouth and chewing slowly, savoring the deliciousness. I polished of my bagel, making sure to lick the cream cheese from every finger when I was finished. I threw the plate in the stainless steel dishwasher and returned to my bedroom to grab my bag. It sat right inside the door, so I bent over quickly to pick it up, not even looking into my room. I slung it over my shoulder and stood up. I gasped. Jace was right in front of me, his lips pressed into a thin line. He stood there for a minute, giving me the stare down.

"Why won't you tell me what happened this weekend?" he asked helplessly, his palms turned up in a form of surrender. I looked away from him, my hair like a shade closing between us, shielding me from him.

"Cause I don't wanna talk about it," I mumbled, hoping to satisfy him.

"What?"

"I don't wanna talk about it!" I exploded, turning toward him, my hand clenching into a fist around my bag's strap. I was about to stomp out of the room like an angry two year old when Jace grabbed my arm and gently, but firmly, tugged me back to him.

"Clary, we need to talk," he said softly, soothingly. I nodded, entranced by the melted gold pools on either side of his angular nose. He pulled me over to the bed, turning his head to check the clock. We had time. Jace sat down first, his big calloused hand patting the spot next to him, telling me to sit. I complied, plopping ungracefully onto the bed, sighing dramatically as I did so.

"So…" I started. Jace looked at me, his ears ready to listen. I stopped, looking at the clock again, wanting something to distract me from his beautiful, angelic face. There I went again. Immediately I was sucked into his features, words tumbling out of my mouth uncontrollably. I barely had any idea what I was saying. Why was I telling him this? I covered my mouth with a petite hand, shunning myself for being so weak. I was a Morgenstern. I wasn't weak. Jace didn't notice my random cut-off point. He was staring beyond me, possibly deep in thought. I stood up quickly, jostling me, almost causing me to tip off the bed. "What the hek, Jace? What are you doing?"

"Going to tell Mr. Prescott," he told me matter-of-factly, striding out of the room.

"Oh, no, you don't!" I called after him, catching up with him effortlessly. I placed a pale hand on his chest, stopping him mid stride. "I'll get kicked out!"

"He can't be allowed to do that!"

"He can, and he will. They'll blame it on me!"

"How do you figure?" Jace was obviously confused.

"I'm the girl. I'm not supposed to be here. They'll say that if I never came, this never could have happened."

"No, they won't, Clary. They can't."

"They will, Jace! I don't want to leave."

"Clary! Do you even _hear_ yourself? It's ridiculous."

"Jace, don't do it!" Jace started back toward my room, walking faster than before. He reached my bed and sat down. I dropped my bag to the ground, hearing it land with a soft thud. I crawled to the back of the bed and rested my back against the soft headboard. "Please, Jace, please." I begged, trying to melt him with my eyes.

"Clary, I know what he's thinking. He won't stop until he, until he…" He was stuttering. I knew where this was going.

"Jace, no! They'll take me away from New York, from the basketball program, from you!" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I blushed, ducking my head behind a veil of curly, red hair, my green eyes cast downward.

"Clary…what do you mean?" Jace asked. I could feel him scooting closer to me. I shrugged, ducking farther behind me locks. "Clary," Jace said, brushing my hair out of the way so he could see my eyes, "do you like me?" I snorted.

"Like? Like! No." Jace was silent, his mouth twitched in utter rejection. "I think a crush that has lasted over six years is a little more than 'like.'"

His face lifted at my words, the edges of his pink lips tugging up into a smile. "Clary, why did you never tell me this?" His golden eyes were intrigued and inquisitive, staring intensely into mine.

"Um, um," I stammered. "I just wanted you to, uh, to make the first move, I guess." Jace's lower lip jutted out a little bit, his finger rested gently on his chin. He was thinking. I sat there awkwardly, embarrassed that I had let the words fall of my tongue without even thinking. I slid down into a laying position, feeling the soft pillows mold themselves to the shape of my head. I wanted so badly to slap myself.

"Is it too late?" Jace asked suddenly, getting on his knees and crawling toward me. He was hovering over me, one knee on each side of my thighs. I was frozen in shock, my eyes growing wide with surprise. I was in a stupor, unable to blink, breath, or talk. When I didn't answer, Jace lowered himself, balancing on his elbows as to not crush me with his muscular weight. "Is. It. Too. Late." He made every word a statement, a sudden fierceness that I could only describe as passion crossed his features. His eyes were blazing a dark shade of amber, his face slightly flushed, and his blond halo of hair effortlessly and messily perfect. I shook my head, squeaking a quick _no_. His lips touched mine gently, testing me. I didn't hesitate, I fisted his shirt and yanked him on top of me, allowing his mouth to lead, setting a quickening pace. His lips were soft and warm, tasting like mint toothpaste. I smiled against his mouth, and he felt it, smiling back.

I pulled away, propping myself on my elbows and looking at him. "We, uh, we better go. I don't want to, uh, don't want to be late for my first day," I spluttered. Jace chuckled and stood up in one graceful motion, his perfectly messed up hair not even waving with his motions. He held out a hand to help lift me off the bed. Jace walked out of the room, and I grabbed my bag, following him out the door and into the elevator. I tapped my hand in time with the surprisingly good music pumping through the speakers. I felt Jace's eyes on me as I walked into the main office of the first of the three school floors. Jace continued onto the second, waving a quick goodbye. I returned it, smiling a big smile at him, hoping to remove the awkwardness. The elevator doors shut before he saw.

I pushed through the door marked _Main Office_ and saw a petite, brown-haired lady with glasses perched on the bridge of her nose typing behind a tall desk. I knocked gently on the wall, announcing my presence, but trying not to disturb her if she was doing something important. The lady looked up and smiled. She took the glasses off her nose and hung them around her neck with the attached gold chain.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Tanner. How may I help you?" Her teeth were perfectly straight and white. She wore a pastel blouse, tucked into the waistband of a floral skirt. The eyelids of her brown eyes were dusted with purple eye shadow and her lips painted in a subtle shade of mauve.

"Hi," I told her, tightening my grip on my backpack, "I'm Clarissa Morgenstern. It's my first day."

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><p><em>Any thoughts? Tell me! Reviews are much appreciated, so I know I'm not wasting my time with this story...I think the storyline may have changed though lol :D<em>


	6. Chapter 5

_ Yay, Chapter...six? Technically called five, but six with the prologue! Yay! Haha Your reviews made my day! Finally figured out how to read them...not the most techy person in the world...more of tech-impared - O.o that's good...may use that :)_

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><p>The woman behind the desk turned to her computer, punching keys quickly with the tips of her fingers, her long, lacquered nails tapping against the plastic. "Ah, Clarissa Morgenstern—," she said.<p>

"Call me Clary," I said quickly. The lady looked pointedly at me, no doubt angered that I had interrupted. I apologized quietly.

"Alright, Clary," she said, her sweet composure returning, "here is your schedule." She handed me a piece of paper with classes and teachers written on it, each teacher having a place to sign his or her name. "And here's a map." She handed me packet of three papers staple together. Each page had a detailed map of the classes and rooms. "Oh, hang on a second, give that back to me please." I handed it back to her, watching as she quickly sketched lines and labeled the numbers. "Here, I plotted the course that will take you from each place as quickly as possible." She smiled a tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you," I replied, tucking the papers into the pocket of my backpack.

"Oh, before I forget," she added, handing me yet another piece of paper, "Here's your locker number and code, usually you are put right next to your roommates, so you will be in between," she turned to her computer, punched a few keys, clicked the mouse a few times, "Alec Lightwood and Jace Herondale. Have a splendid first day." I nodded and thanked Mrs. Tanner, hurrying out of the office as quickly as I could. The late bell rang just as my phone buzzed, signaling a new text message. I woke up the screen, seeing Jon trapping me in a headlock on the background picture. I smiled, dropping down the notification screen and clicking on the new message. It was from a new number that wasn't in my contacts.

**Wanna hang out aftr skool? –Simon**

I stopped in the hallway to text back.

**Sure, say four-ish? **

I walked three steps before another text message popped up. I was already late for class, why not just be a little bit later.

**Four-ish. I'll text you the deets l8r.**

I laughed and shut my phone of, navigating the halls to find my locker. Locker 418-B. I looked to my left and right: locker 418-A and locker 418-C, respectively. I shrugged, knowing that this would be very easy to remember. I twisted the lock to the combination numbers on the orange slip of paper in my hand. 14-47-43. What was with me and fours today? I opened it and tossed my backpack in, grabbing my favorite purple pen, notebook, class schedule, and maps. I slammed the red metal shut, listening to the bang echo down the marble-floored hallway. I walked away quickly, climbing into the elevator, since my first class was biology on school floor #2. I waited patiently for the elevator to come down to me, then I again waited for the doors to close. I was bouncing impatiently on my heels by the time the doors opened to the second school floor. I made a mental note to take the stairs from now on. My pale hands shoved through the biology door fifteen minutes late.

"Ah..Miss Morgenstern, so glad you were finally able to join us." Thirty eyes shifted in my direction, taking me in, absorbing the fact that there was now a girl in their class. He handed me a biology book off his heavy mahogany desk. "You can sit next to…" the male teacher with a blue button down, brown pants and a checkered bowtie looked at his seating chart, his bald spot in the middle of his thinning brown hair clearly visible when he ducked his head, "Mr. Montgomery." He lifted a crooked finger. I followed his gaze, my blood freezing in my veins when I saw where he was pointing: Paul. There was a malicious smirk plastered on his cracked lips, his dark, sinister eyes staring up at me over an opened biology book. The students sat at wooden tables, each with two rather comfy looking chairs. The comfy chair didn't look so welcoming to me today. I remained glued to the front. "Go on," the teacher said impatiently. He hadn't even taken the time to tell me his name. I checked his desk, and his nameplate read Mr. Smith. I couldn't help but crack a smile at the most common name in the world. I looked at Paul. He had thought I was smiling at him. I sighed, shyly shuffling across the room. I set my stuff down with a thwack.

"Hey, babe," Paul greeted, brushing his brown hair off his zit-embellished forehead. I gagged, but otherwise ignored him, tuning into Mr. Smith's lesson about the difference between biodegradable and non-biodegradable objects. I watched with such intensity that Mr. Smith even pointed out that more students should be like me. I smiled, well actually my mouth twitched, but Mr. Smith seemed to take it as a smile so he grinned back. He turned and began loading pictures onto the Smart Board, pointing out biodegradable objects. Paul squeezed my thigh twice that hour, and it took all my strength not to slam his face into the tabletop. It took even more than all my strength to prevent myself from swearing at him when he leaned over and whispered, "I will have you, just you wait. I will have you." I just leaned away, as if I didn't hear him, but I did. Every atom in my core was shaking with fear and anger, waiting to get out of biology, threatening to snap my control and send my fist swinging wildly at his much-too-large nose. When the bell rang, I threw my chair back with a screech and rushed out of the room, hoping that all I had was one class with him.

My next to classes were simple: physical education and computer skills. Normally, students in the basketball program don't have to take phys. ed., but I hadn't had a first credit at my old school, so I had to catch up. Computer studies, I sat alone at my computer, maneuvering Photoshop like a pro. I didn't glance at any of the other people in the class and in return, nobody glanced at me, not even when I walked in. Next, I had to tackle Spanish. I loved Spanish, always have, always will. I got there early, asking where to sit, so that I was already in place when the other students came in.

The room was set up just like biology, with mahogany tables, two chairs per table. The door handle turned. I gritted my teeth, waiting for Paul's brown head to pop in. Instead, I was taken aback, gasping for air. The student had golden hair, matching his golden eyes: Jace. I hadn't even thought that I may have classes with Jace. I just didn't really think about that. He walked over and sat down opposite me. "Hey, Morgen," he said casually, lifting his fingers off the tabletop in a small wave.

"Hey, yourself," I replied, opening my notebook and clicking my purple pen in anxiousness.

"¡Hola!" she said happily. "Tenemos un estudiante nuevo." She motioned for me to stand up. "Me llamo Señora Martinez. ¿Como te llamas?" I cleared my throat, feeling stares on my back.

"Me…me llamo…me llamo Clary," I managed to spit out. I sat down embarrassedly, while Jace stood up.

"Clary está muy asustado porque hoy es su primer día aquí," he said. _Jace to the rescue_, I thought, smiling. I flicked him when he sat back down. "Ow," he complained, smiling and rubbing his arm. I smiled my sweetest, most innocent smile at him, scoring a deep chuckle that made my insides melt.

"Jace," I whispered as the teacher passed out worksheets, "about this morning—" I was promptly cut off as the teacher slammed Jace's and my worksheets on the table.

"Ah, ah, ahhh. En español," she reprimanded. I shook my head, diving into my worksheet, scribbling down the answers. It was so easy.

Q1: What does tener mean?

A: To want.

All the questions were like the one above. Jace and I were done in a flash, facing each other again. His head leaning lazily on his fist, his elbow propped on the table. "Que estabas diciendo...?" he said, his lips forming his perfect Spanish words. He talked so fluently, so naturally, I would have sworn that he lived in Spain.

"Nada," I said. With a wave of my hand, I dismissed the conversation. His face fell, but he caught himself, smiling slightly, painfully almost, as he let the conversation drop. I forced myself to look down at my worksheet, pretending to do it for the rest of the class. Jace sat quietly by my side for the rest of the class, not paying attention to me, or anything in particular. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. The biggest event being that basketball practice was cancelled due to over-booking of the gym, not that I cared. I was going out with Simon anyways. After school was over, I walked slowly back to my dorm room, keeping my head down. I threw open the door and plopped on the couch. I was exhausted. I leaned over and fell asleep. Twenty minutes later, my pillow shifted. I grabbed it to move it and grabbed onto something that felt a whole lot like t-shirt. I looked up and realized it was Jace. I shot up, a blush creeping up my cheeks. My phone beeped with a new message. I checked it silently, waiting for Jace to say something. He just stood up and walked away. I looked back down at my phone.

**Sorry, important band practice. Rain check? Text you when I'm free**.

I groaned. I had been looking forward to that all day. My phone beeped again. New message from another new number.

**Catch me if you can! ;)**

I looked up and a second later I saw Jace sprint by, flying down the bedroom hall. I giggled and got up, racing after him. "Jaaaaace!" I called playfully. I heard laughter coming from Alec's room. I threw open the door, poised to pounce. Two faces separated, and four eyes stared at me.

"GET OUT!" Alec hollered throwing a pillow at my head. I swiftly ducked, dodging the weapon. He crossed the room, pointing a finger directly in my face. The purple-haired, glitter-covered boy on the bed sat there, grinning. "If you so much as tell anyone about this, you are going to wish you had never even been born." His blue eyes were icy. I nodded.

"I'm Magnus!" called the purple-haired boy happily. "Magnus Bane!"

"I'm Clary," I told him, smiling timidly. Alec pushed me out the door, and I sat in the hallway, trying to shake the image from my head. "Jace!" I yelled unhappily. "I'm done playing." I walked into my bedroom and stripped of my day clothes, throwing on a pair of pajama pants and a camisole. I heard a whistle from behind me. "Jace! You could have told me you were in here!" I said, blushing. It's not like it mattered anyways. He hadn't seen anymore than he would if I were wearing a bikini. I lay down on my bed, squeezing a pillow to my chest.

"Clary," he sighed, "about this morning…" He trailed off.

"I know. I know. You didn't know what you were thinking. You think it was a mistake. Can we just be friends? Blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all before, Jace." Jace looked at me like I was the most ignorant girl on the planet.

"Could you listen before jumping to conclusions? You always did do that." I waited patiently this time. "I was _going_ to say that I can't stop think about it."

"It's okay, Jace. It's not like it would work anyways. Mr. Prescott said he'd kick me out if anything like this..wait what?"

"I, I can't get you out of my head, Clary. I can't." I sat there awestruck. Angelic Jace couldn't get plain Clary off his mind. I was thrilled. "And I was wondering, wondering if maybe, maybe we could do it again." I nodded, watching him silently close the distance between us. My pulse was racing, my body temperature rising. My toes were wiggling impatiently as my eyelids fluttered shut. My composure was collapsing. I wanted so badly to just throw my arms around him and pull him to me, just to end this waiting. I was on the brink of boiling over when his lips connected with mine, slowly, agonizingly slowly. I leaned into him, tangling my slim fingers in his hair. A spark exploded between our lips. He cupped the back of my head with one hand, the other rested on the small of my back. He pulled away, peppering my lips with dozens of quick kisses.

"No one can know," I warned. Jace's fingers wove through my own.

"Know what?" he asked, smirking.

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><p><em>So? What do you think? Love it? Hate it? Wasting my time? Wasting my time for a good reason? You tell me...because I do not know these things<em>


	7. Chapter 6

Hm...darker than I thought it would be...oh well interesting twist...Guess that what happens when you listen to It Will Rain and Sail while writing. thanks for the feedback! I love all the positive comments :)

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><p>I plopped onto my stomach on my bed Friday evening after practice. The rest of the week had passed uneventfully, Jace and I nodding kind hellos in passing, trying ferociously to keep our distance from one another, Paul groping at me during every second of every practice, and me going through classes in a haze, trying unsuccessfully to keep a certain blonde angel off my mind. I crossed my ankles in the air, my bare feet making small circles. I had a pencil between my teeth and a sketchbook propped in my hands. I turned to the first blank page, skipping past numerous shaded angels, perfectly replicated objects, and beautifully posed people. I took a deep breath and let my hands fly, feelings flowing from me through the pencil and blossoming into artwork on the page. I was in a trance, drawing did that to me. Everything else was shut out. A shaded the person on the page, her wide doe-like eyes staring at me hopefully. I began smudging the thick, charcoal lines with my finger. I jumped slightly when my phone beeped.<p>

**Meet me at Caffeine in ten. Google it. –Simon**

I smiled, recalling our cancelled outing earlier that week. I tugged a curl behind my ear and texted back an okay. Throwing my pencils down, I pulled out my laptop and brought up Google. I typed _Caffeine Coffee Shop:_ _New York, New York _into the search bar. I clicked on the first link and then found a button near the end that said _Get Directions_. The page it brought me to confused me. It said that Caffeine was right next to Prescott, in fact connected to Prescott. I shut my sketchpad and grabbed my purse. I tugged on my boots and walked to the door. "Hey," Jace said as I walked by him in the kitchen. I nodded a hello in passing. Publically we were friends, and currently, we were friends privately too. After the previous kiss, we shared no other romantic encounters, not Friday, not Wednesday, not Thursday. Hewalked to my side of the counter. His thumb came up and touched my cheek.

"Um, Clary, you have…pencil…all over your face." His eyebrows furrowed. I gasped and ran back to my room, taking a warm rag from the bathroom and scrubbing of the silvery residue. I checked my phone. I had five minutes. I sprinted back through the hallway and to the door. I jammed my sleeves in my coat and ran out the door. "Where you going?" Jace asked from the doorframe.

"Oh, to go see Simon," I said, walking away from him. Jace grunted in reply. I whirled around to face him.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Nothing, nothing," he said putting his hands up, leaning on the doorframe with his elbows. I just realized he didn't have a shirt on. His washboard abs distracted me. Jace always seemed to distract me. "It's just that, my old roommate used to be named Simon…Simon, Simon…Ah, Simon Lewis. Dark hair, brown eyes. He was in a band. Moldy something. I stopped paying attention after they switched their name a million times." I laughed and walked away from him, waving over my shoulder.

"Bye, Jace!" I called.

"Bye, woman," he replied, shutting the door as he went back inside. I texted Simon as I waited in the elevator. **On my way**_**. **_I reached the lobby and walked to the wing where this coffee shop was supposed to be located. There it was, a warm coffee shop with glossy wooden floors and buttery yellow walls. Tall pub tables were scattered randomly. People sat at them, chatting over steaming lattes, smiling over pastry's of every flavor. Simon sat alone at one, his head resting in his palm, his eyelids drooping sleepily.

"Simon!" I said, as I sat down next to him. His eyelids snapped open.

"Huh? What?" he asked, seeming disoriented. "Oh, hi Clary." I took my coat of and hanged it over the back of the chair, sitting down. There was a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

"Black," I commented, "like my soul." Simon and I laughed at that. The people around us continued their chatter completely ignoring us. There was a constant hum of life exiting and entering the shop. It was warm and welcoming. "I like it." I said aloud.

"Me, too. I spent half of my first semester at Prescott here," he stirred the straw in his own coffee. I took a drink of mine.

"Prescott?" I asked. Simon nodded.

"Music major. Apparently it's some big basketball school, but despite the reputation, it does have a very good music program." I wrapped my hands around my mug, my green eyes growing wide.

"Simon!" I squealed, "I go to Prescott." Simon choked on his drink.

"What?"

"I. Go. To. Prescott."

Simon shot me a look. "I know _that_. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked." I said. "You never told me where you went to school. We had all of one conversation."

"Why haven't I seen you around?"

"Lots and lots of basketball practice." I told him. "Speaking of practices…how was band practice?" His face dropped.

"Terrible. Our guitarist quit. Millennium Lint broke up."

"Millennium Lint?" I laughed. Simon sat quietly while I erupted in giggles.

"Stop it, Clary. It is very tragic." Simon was so easy to get along with.

"I'm, I'm sorry. It's just, so random!" I started laughing again. Simon and I sipped our coffees while chatting in a more polite manner. I glanced down at my phone. It was nearly ten o'clock.

"Hey," I said, setting down my empty mug, "I've had a great time. Now that we know that we go to the same school we can hang out more, but I have to go." Simon nodded, draining the rest of his third coffee. I threw my jacket over my arm and walked with Simon to the elevator. He exited on the second floor while I stayed on to go to the fourth. I was looking forward to a nice long shower when the doors opened on the third floor, and Paul waltzed in as if he was on top of the world.

"Hey, babe," he said. I ignored him, tapping my fingers against the elevator wall.

Paul stood there silently for a minute. He waited for the doors to close. Then he grabbed my hair and pushed me against the wall. He stroked my cheek and kissed my temple. The bell dinged, signaling we were at my stop. Paul held the button to keep the doors closed.

"I know you want me," he whispered in my face. I smiled sweetly.

"Of course I want you," I told him. His grip loosened on my hair. "to leave!" I shouted. I went to kick him, but he shifted his body just out of reach. Then he slammed his lips into mine, banging my head against the elevator wall. He forced his tongue inside my mouth, and I bit down. He yelped a little, but recovered instantly, slapping my across the face. His nail gouged my cheek, and I felt my blood trickle down slowly. He put his mouth back on mine. I placed both my hands on his chest, trying to knock him away. He thought I was welcoming the kiss, so he began kissing me more fiercely, his hands painfully feeling my body. I screamed against his lips. I pushed and kicked. Paul's hand slipped off the button, but he kept kissing me. My eyes were wide open. I could barely breath.

All of a sudden, Paul was ripped from me and tossed against the wall. I swiped my hand across my mouth. "Clary?" a familiar voice asked. "Are you okay?" I nodded, not looking at Jace yet. "Clary, you're bleeding…" His thumb touched my wound, and I shied away from his touch, instead walking out of the elevator and to my dorm room. His mouth opened as I sat down on the couch. I was exhausted.

"**Don't** say anything, Jace," I told him, putting my finger up. Jace looked at me for a minute, and then sat down, his finger tapping his chin.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like what Paul's doing to you, and that is the reason you won't tell. Oh, wait, I don't know any better!" he shouted. He stood up from where he was sitting and began pacing. "What other reason do you have to put up with this?"

"Go away, Jace." Jace stopped pacing.

"Go away. I don't want to look at you," I said calmly. He was frustrating, infuriating, yet he consumed my thoughts constantly.

"Can't you please cover your eyes then?" I laughed humorlessly. "I don't like seeing this happen."

I stole his line. "Can't _you_ just cover your eyes then? I would have gotten him off me eventually…"

"Yeah, but how far would he have already gone?" Jace was frustrated. His golden orbs were glazed over and cloudy. He looked agonized. I shrugged.

"In an elevator, Jace? Not likely. You worry too much." He threw his hands up in defeat.

"It's just, I want you safe."

"Well, it's not what you want. It's what I want. What I want is Prescott. You have no say. You are my friend. You haven't declared yourself as anything more." His mouth dropped. He blinked a couple of times and retreated to his room. I stuck my tongue out at his back. Yeah, sure it was childish, but it made me feel better. "Way to go, Clary," I mumbled to myself, "you're just making friends today, aren't you?" I took out my phone and dialed my house.

"Hello?"

"Jon?"

"God, Clary, it's ten thirty. Mom and dad are in bed!" he whisper-yelled.

I laughed into the phone. "Good you hear from you, too."

"You know, it's always good to hear from you, but I have friends over. We are online and annihilating. Oh! I gotta go," His voice got distant as I heard him say, _You SOB don't let that guy kill me! _"Yeah, Clary, I gotta go. See ya." Before I could say anything the line went dead. I looked at the phone, feeling rejected. Then I dialed Maia.

"Hey, you got Maia! Leave a message!"

"Uh, hey, Maia, just wondering what's up. Talk to you soon." I hung up. I texted Simon, but there was no reply. I soon realized that I would be all alone this Friday night. My head flopped back against the couch, and I turned on the flatscreen. The movie _Up_ was just starting. I smiled as I watched the boy and the girl fall in love, grow up, buy a house, and raise money for a trip but then end up spending the money on something else. Then, the wife died, and the old man was left alone. Currently, that was how I was feeling, all alone. I watched the movie until I fell asleep on the couch, surprisingly calm after what happened in the elevator. I mean, he stole a kiss or two, how bad was that. The voice in the back of my head told me that the fact that he did it while I was unwilling made it bad. My dream was about basketball, the ball bouncing rhythmically against the wooden court floor. Jace was open down low, and I chucked him the ball. He caught it, but suddenly, the scene shifted. Paul was closing in on me, backing me into a corner, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I covered my face with his hands as I heard his menacing laugh. He inched closer, metallic glinting off something held in his hand. I didn't get to see what it was. My eyes flew open, and I sat up, looking around, making sure I was in my dorm. The T.V. was still there, and I was still on the white leather sofa. I saw the kitchen and the red accessories. I shoved my head into a pillow and screamed, the muffled sound still echoing off every wall in the dorm, but tonight, I knew no one would come running, tonight I was all alone.

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><p>So? So? Not what you were expecting? Yeah I usually don't do stuff like this, but I thought it was pretty good for not writing like this before... Jaceluver14: I always have a problem with moving my characters too fast..hope their little...argument...helped with that little problem :) More to come hopefully!<p> 


	8. Chapter 7

_Formal appology: my comment to a reader on the last one was not to Jaceluver14, but to 4everJace11...so sorry about that...(I am a blond, but it's okay because blonds have more fun...it just may not be logical fun) [: Next chapter, hope you like it...and Jaceluver14 here's a comment just for you :) - Thank you for your awesome reviews, they make me smile and encourage me to continue on with this story! Stay Awesome! {{We get to meet Isabelle in this one, but only for a moment...don't worry she'll be back...maybe when Simon is around *wink wink*}} -BallinBlonde21_

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><p><em>Ding-dong.<em> I woke up to the high trilling sound of the doorbell. The golden morning sunshine seeped through the blinds, which were slightly ajar, casting a warm, yellow glow around the room. I rolled onto my side, my spine popping from the cramped conditions of sleeping on the couch. One leg had been thrown across the coffee table while the other dangled helplessly off the leather. I dragged my arm lazily across my mouth, trying to remove any remnants of dried drool. I cringed as the dried spit wiped away. Did I really drool that much? _Ding-dong, ding-dong. _The impatient visitor began ringing the doorbell. I threw a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. "I vote Ginger!" I heard Jace's husky voice yell from his bedroom, slightly muffled as if a pillow was over his head also.

"I second that nomination," shouted a much more educated sounding voice, Alec. I groaned, screaming a few choice words back at them, but I reluctantly pulled myself up off the couch, bones and muscles cracking and stretching respectively. I used the ponytail secured around my wrist to tug the fiery chaos atop my head into a messy bun, rubbing my cool palms against my tired, green eyes. I blinked, clearing the sleepy haze from my vision. _Ding-dong._

"Could you wait? I am coming!" I screamed at the door. It was only seven o'clock. We had all day. I crossed to the door as quickly as my still awakening legs would allow me, half sliding, half walking toward the entry. I wrapped my hand around the silver doorknob and tugged, just as another _ding-dong_ rang through the house, causing me to jump slightly. It was much louder and higher by the door. I suppressed a glare as I stared out our visitor. She towered over me by at least a foot. I backed up a bit in shock as the girl standing outside side-stepped me and walked to the kitchen without permission. Her high-heeled, knee-high boots made subtle tapping noises against the wood floor. She plopped into a barstool and rested her head in her palm, her jet-black her cascading around her like a waterfall, her dark eyes staring at me. She tapped the crimson fingernails of the other hand against the counter. She wore dark-washed skinny jeans, black leather boots, and a green bomber jacket. A v-neck graphic tee beneath showed off her rather large endowments. I looked away as quickly as I could, fiddling with my ragged t-shirt and pajama pants.

"Jace! Alec!" I hollered nervously, wondering why she was here. "There's a girl here to see you." I heard a door slam at my words. One of the boys was angry, or annoyed. "Go AWAY, Izzy!" Alright, _Jace _was angry. Then footsteps rang through the hallways, as if someone was running.

"Izzy!" Alec greeted, scooping her up in a big bear hug. I couldn't help but notice the resemblance. "Where's Max?" The girl's gaze dropped to the floor sheepishly. "What did you do, Izzy?" Alec asked in a slightly condescending tone.

The girl looked up at him. "_I_ didn't do anything. _Max_ got himself in trouble. Mom and Dad wouldn't let him come," she replied, offended. Alec put his hands up in defeat. He brought one to his face and rubbed his chin. So this was Alec's sister. I cleared my throat, and the Lightwoods turned to face me.

"Hi," I said coolly, though my breathing had picked up. This girl lived with Jace? Had anything gone down between them? "I'm Clary." I stuck out my hand for her to shake, but she slapped it with a high-five instead, smiling a tight-lipped smile.

"What is **she** doing here?" I heard her whisper to Alec in a higher voice. I looked pointedly at Alec, and he blushed a bit, knowing I heard every word his sister had just said.

"Clary," he said my name with emphasis "is the basketball recruit. She goes to this school." This was the first time Alec had said anything nice about me. I guess he does have a conscience. Her mouth made an _O_, and she apologized quickly.

"I'm Isabelle Lightwood," she said her name with the same self-confidence Alec had. "It's just that Jace always has all types of girls around her…never mind." Her smile seemed genuine as she took my hand and shook it firmly. As soon as she released, I let my hand fall limply to my side. _All _types? Does that mean I was just another one of his _girls_? I shut my mouth as Alec and Izzy caught up on recent events. I soon excused myself and went to my private bathroom, climbing nimbly into the shower and helplessly trying to get the steaming water to stimulate my brain. I felt numb inside. Why hadn't he told me? I watched the steam billow over the shower door and took my sweet time lathering soap between my palms. I waited until I felt an uneasy sense of calm. Then I hopped gently out of the shower and wrapped myself in a big, fluffy towel, trudging to my bedroom, head hung in shame. I threw on my best pair of jeans and favorite flowing tank top.

After towel drying my hair, I checked my phone for messages. Three messages: Jon, Maia, and Simon. I answered each one of them quickly, with the vaguest of answers, hoping not to spark a conversation. I threw open my door and saw Jace lounging on the floor across from it, back resting coolly against the wall, eyelids drooping over perfect golden eyes, framed by a lock of angelic hair… This was out of hand. I scooted quietly around him, hearing his weight shift as he stood up. "Clary…" he began. I walked away, throwing my hand over my shoulder and giving him a signal that was very, very unladylike. "Clary, don't be like that…" There was a hint of sadness in his voice that caused a lump to rise in my throat, but I ignored him, continuing to stomp into the living room. I parked myself in front of the television, turning on a show and acting as if no one else was in the room.

I heard someone following me short after, sitting on the sofa adjacent to the one I had plopped down on. I continued to watch the pictures move on the TV, not comprehending one word the actors and actresses said. I heard a guitar chord, practically felt the vibrations of the strings as Jace strummed across them. His fingers, the fingers that sent electric sparks down across my skin, danced across the taut strings creating flowing music. I struggled to keep my face neutral, to face directly forward. Then his voice began singing, smooth like honey, perfect like the angels, brilliant like the sunshine:

_A strangled smile fell from your face_

_It kills me that I hurt you this way_

_The worst part is that I didn't even know_

_Now there's a million reasons for you to go_

_But if you can find a reason to stay_

I almost broke down right there, turning to him and pouring my soul to him, just like back when we were five and sat in the tree house in July, watching the fireflies buzz above the grasses. I almost began crying like the time I fell off the swing, and he picked me up and dusted me off, washing the dirt from my boo-boos. All the memories of our childhood friendship came flooding back, filling my mind with smiles and tears and laughter and arguments. I forced myself to remain seated, watching the TV distantly, listening to Jace with a new interest.

_I'll do whatever it takes_

_To turn this around_

_I know what's at stake_

_I know that I've let you down_

_And if you give me a chance_

_Believe that I can change_

_I'll keep us together whatever it takes._

My green eyes flicked in his direction, watching him with his head bowed over the guitar, singing his soul out. He looked up, his gold eyes meeting mine. I quickly looked away, but I knew that he had seen, judging by the low, throaty chuckle that played harmoniously with his beautiful voice.

_She said "If we're gonna make this work_

_You gotta let me inside even though it hurts_

_Don't hide the broken parts that I need to see"_

_She said "Like it or not it's the way it's gotta be_

_You gotta love yourself if you can ever love me"_

I knew this song. I know it was written and sung by some famous band, but I couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu. I vaguely recalled a conversation like this when Jon, Jace, and I were having a picnic in the backyard. Jon had gone in for drinks and…

_I'll do whatever it takes_

_To turn this around_

_I know what's at stake_

_I know that I've let you down_

_And if you give me a chance_

_And give me a break_

_I'll keep us together, I know you deserve much better_

I looked at Jace and saw him poking and prodding at a bruise on his forearm. "What's that, Jace?" I had asked him, that chilly fall day. I had on my favorite Hello Kitty hoodie, and I had snuggled deeper into it.

"What? That's nothing," he mumbled, shoving his sweatshirt sleeve over it. He shifted uncomfortable, trying unsuccessfully to change the subject topic. I tugged it back up and checked his wound, seeing the sadness in his eyes.

"Jace, what happened?"

_But remember the time I told you the way that I felt_

_That I'd be lost without you and never find myself_

_Let's hold onto each other above everything else_

_Start over, start over._

Jace had gotten distant for a second before shaking his head, a single tear rolling off his nose and onto the checkered blanket. I had scooted closer to him, throwing my arm around his shoulder. "It's okay to cry, Jace." He shook with silent tears as I waited for him to explain.

_I'll do whatever it takes_

_To turn this around_

_I know what's at stake_

_I know I've let you down_

_And if you give me a chance_

_And believe that I can change_

_I'll keep us together, whatever it takes._

His father had come home drunk. In his drunken haze, he had mistaken Jace for another man. Thinking his wife was cheating on him, Jace's father beat him bloody, kicking Jace to the curb and turning to beat his own wife. I was jerked back to the present, tears stinging my eyes with the memory. I swallowed a wobbly breath as Jace strummed the last few chords, humming quietly. I braved a look at him, seeing he had moved closer to me. His golden eyes searched my face for any reaction to his actions. I stood still, not ready to give him the satisfaction of victory, though my insides were melted to nothing more than a puddle.

"Clary?" he choked out, his eyes skimming my features, his mouth twitching dejectedly. I turned to face him, his lips meeting mine halfway. There was silence for a moment, just the soft whisper of or lips moving in synchronization and our hearts beating in rhythm. I pulled away, ducking my head. He used a finger to lift my chin, looking me in the eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" I muttered, trying to turn away from him. He held me in place, giving me a look that said, "I know you're lying." I groaned, "Isabelle told me about all the girls." Jace's eyebrows knit together. It looked as if he was trying to think about the girls I was talking about.

"What girls?" He seemed genuinely confused. I rolled my eyes.

"You're, you're…lovers," I whispered the last word like it was a dirty word. His back straightened as he leaned back in shock.

"Lovers? I'm sixteen, Clary." His eyes held mine steady, a good sign that he wasn't lying, but he wasn't giving me a straight answer.

"Jace, how many girls have you had over?" He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"Divide by nine, carry the one," he mumbled to himself, waving a finger in the air as if he were doing actual math, "Um that brings it to…Zero!" I looked at him in disbelieve. "What you don't believe me? Ask me the question you really want to ask!"

I pushed my lips into a thin line. I swear this boy could read my mind. "What question?" I asked stupidly. It was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Ask me if I'm still a virgin!" he shouted. I shifted awkwardly, looking to check that Alec and Izzy weren't in the kitchen. The kitchen was vacant. I looked back at Jace. "Go on," he said impatiently, "Ask me."

"Jace," I stuttered, "are you st-still a v-v-v…" I couldn't say the word.

"Vir-gin," he annunciated, his lips forming perfectly as the word rolled gently off his tongue.

"Virgin," I spat, like it was a cuss word. He smiled, crossing his arms and leaning back. "Well, aren't you going to answer?" I squeaked, my voice rising three octives.

"What? Don't you want to find out for yourself?" He wagged his eyebrows at me. I smacked him on the arm. "Fine, fine. See, I knew you wanted to ask this question! Yes, of course I'm a virgin, I only got my license a month ago. Geesh, no need to be so abusive." My body went rigid at the last word of his sentence, remembering Jace climbing through my window late at night, a new bruise visible on his hollowed cheek, a new cut across his arm, a new wound each night. I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my forehead against them. "Clary…Clary what is it? Did I do something wrong again? Izzy was only kidding. She just says things to fill gaps in conversation or to cover her own mistakes." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging angrily at his blond locks. I felt his body freeze next to me. He finally understood.

"Clary, Clary, it's okay," he told me, pointing at his arms and chest. He coaxed my head up so that I could see there were no bruises or gashes, only scars from his past wounds. I reached out and touched his warm arm, tracing the jagged line of the first one. He put his strong arm around me and pulled me to his side. He stroked my hair, still damp and hanging loose from my shower. "Do you understand now why I felt so protective over what was happening between you and Paul?" I nodded into his shoulder, smelling the scent that I had fallen asleep next to for so many years, so many great years.

He surprised me by kissing my hairline. He seemed to surprise himself, his arm tensing around me, only relaxing when I snuggled deeper into his shoulder. I had an idea then, gears in my head turning at a rapid pace.

"Jace, now that I know you play guitar…can you do something for me?"

He tipped his head in my direction, a victorious smile playing on his lips. "All you have to do is ask." He was going to hate me for this…I smiled up at him sweetly.

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><p><em>Can anyone guess Clary's favor? :) hehe Tell me what you think, or just continue to read my story, whatevs, as long as someone besides me is getting enjoyment outta this! Because I sure love writing!<em>


	9. Chapter 8

_Wrote this really quickly...had the idea during Algebra II while learning about solving linear systems of inequalites...haha and then I decided to put it in my story...It's a happy chapter! :) But probably means the next one will have some drama...it's about time for drama...right? ;)_

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><p>"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Jace said that same night. He shifted a little bit closer, his eyes twinkling in the strobe lights. "Although there wasn't much talking in the persuasion at all, was there?" His fingers brushed mine lightly, sending electricity shooting up my arm. He leaned in closer and whispered against my lips, "You don't play fair at all, Morgen." My breath hitched in my throat. His minty breath caressed my faith as his chest rumbled with a low chuckle. I was in a daze. With my lips nearly on Jace's, I couldn't think. I felt like nothing around me mattered right now. It was just me and my favorite childhood friend.<p>

"Hey, guys! You ready, pretty boy?" Jace and I jumped five feet apart at the sound of Simon's voice. Jace turned around and pointed a finger in front of Simon's dirty glasses.

"That's _Mr._ Pretty Boy to you," he said, turning on his heel and grabbing the electric guitar from its stand. He flashed me a grin as he ascended the steps to the stage, shiny blue instrument in hand. I admired the view from behind as he disappeared on the other side of the thick red curtain. He had on dark-washed jeans and a white v-neck that clung to his muscles. His gold ring sparkled on his hand. It had an "M" on it and was a gift from my father to him. Of course, Jon had one, too. I smiled, touching my lips, remembering how slyly I had persuaded Jace to play with Simon's band at their gig tonight. It was at one of his favorite clubs, Pandemonium. He'd caved quickly. Isabelle came up behind me and looped her arm through mine, dragging me to the front of the curtain to watch the show.

Izzy and I had spent some of the day talking, getting to know each other. She and I didn't have much in common, but we got along well. I couldn't help but think that it would be nice to have a girl friend in New York, so I let her take my arm and lead me, as if we had been friends since birth. "Ooh, it's starting!" she squealed, her hands shaking in delight.

Isabelle looked great, as always. She had on a short black dress that showed off all of her curves. She had on thick black eyeliner, and her hair was perfectly straight. She somehow managed to dance around on eight-inch cheetah print heels, something that I could never understand the appeal of. I'd worn my red ones the first day, but they were actually a rare pair that were actually really comfortable and definitely not eight inches high. I looked down at myself, wondering why I had let her dress me. I had on an equally short dress, also black. There was a sparkly bow at the high waistline, and it puffed around me, but not unattractively. I ditched the black ankle boots she had forced on my feet and slipped on my black flats. She had smudged black eyeliner all around my eyes and braded my blazing hair in a calm side-braid, teasing it slightly for a messy effect. I heard the guitar strum and I looked up, seeing Jace's feet tapping to the beat as his hands played the guitar perfectly. The notes, the rhythm, the pitch—everything was perfect.

Izzy leaned into my ear. "The drummer is hot!" I peeked around to see Simon in a black t-shirt banging loudly on the drums, keeping the beat for the music. I snorted. Izzy didn't hear me. Her black eyes were too busy ogling Simon. I walked away from her toward the bar for a soda. I threw a few dollars on the counter and waited as the bartender poured me a Seven-Up.

"Hey, baby," I heard someone whisper, "where have you been all my life?" I cringed, turning to face Paul and his friend, another basketball player named Sebastian. My emerald eyes glared at him as he smiled. He was obviously feeling bulletproof.

I smiled at him, "Hiding from you." He didn't get it. He laughed, his eyes rolling backward a bit. They were glazed over. Paul was drunk. I took a sip of my seven up.

"Is this seat empty?" he asked pointing to the barstool next to me.

"Yes," I replied, "and this one will be too if you sit down." I took another drink. Holding true to my word, I got up as he plopped into the seat, his face flushed from the alcohol. I slipped his friend my change. "Get him home safely, will you?" I rolled my eyes at him as I walked away. Sure, he was a jerk, but he was my teammate. I don't let my teammates down.

When I returned to the dance floor, Isabelle had found a muscular man to dance with, her face twisted into a smile. I shook my head and squeezed my way to the front, loving nothing more than seeing Jace sweating as he played the electric guitar, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He rarely looked up, but when he did, he saw me and winked, going into a large guitar solo, hitting every note like a pro. I danced and laughed and clapped just like the other fans, complimenting on his playing and the rest of the band's playing politely with the people next to me. I screamed for an encore when the lights went dim, dancing with Izzy, who had snaked her way up to the front, when they came back out to play another song. By then end of the night, my ears were still thumping along with an invisible beat. Izzy, Jace, and I climbed into his car. Alec stayed behind, claiming he had a headache, but I saw Magnus entering the lobby as we left. Jace threw his shiny gift from the Lightwoods into drive and sped out of the parking lot, singing along to every song on the radio, whether our words matched or not.

We reached our dorm soon, finding all the lights off except for the sliver of light streaming out beneath Alec's door. "I'm sssspending the night with you guyssss," Izzy slurred, having drank some alcohol herself. She promptly passed out on my bed, her arms and legs splayed, leaving no room for me. I rolled my eyes at Jace and shut my door quietly, hoping to not wake the sleeping queen. I walked to the living room and lay down on the couch, turning the TV on mute. Jace sat on top of me, making me squirm and giggle. His shirt was still damp with sweat, and for some reason, a sweaty Jace turned me on. It clung to his muscles even better. I couldn't stop my fingers from reaching up and delicately tracing the strong planes of his back. Jace trembled under my touch, sliding from my lap and toppling onto the spot next to me. He rested his head against the back of the couch. His eyelids were drooping sleepily when Izzy came barreling out. "Let'sssss play a drinking game," she suggested happily, teetering on her heels.

Jace and I looked at each other, and then forced Izzy to sit so we could slide the Cheetah-print shoes of her small feet. We told her that there was no way we were playing a drinking game with her, though it was a well-known fact that all of the Prescott basketball players usually drank on weekends. She pouted, real tears welling up in her eyes, until Jace sighed and agreed, asking what it was called. "Never have I ever," she informed us, the pitch changing with every word. She commanded Jace to get three cups and fill them with alcohol. I watched Jace dump ginger ale into each cup, and then hand one to both of us. He plopped down onto the couch next to me, just as there was a knock on the door. I groaned and got up, seeing Alec and Magnus leaving his room.

"Alec!" Izzy shouted. Jace made a shushing noise in her direction, but she waved him off. "Friend of Alec!" she added, finally noticing Magnus. His eyebrows lifted in a silent greeting as he shuffled toward the door. "You two come play with us." I didn't watch the pouting scene. I was too busy ushering Simon inside the dorm. It looked like there was a party tonight. Jace poured some more cups, and I didn't pay attention to whether they were ginger ale or not. We all sat in a circle, our red plastic cups in front of us. "Alright…I'll start."

I must have had a confused look on my face because Jace leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Izzy will say something she's never done before, and if you've done it, you have to take a drink." I nodded slightly as Jace leaned away, casually lifting his cup to his lips.

"Never have I ever…ridden on a motorcycle," she said after a moment of thinking. The rest of our cups went to our mouths, Izzy laughing stupidly as this happened.

"Never have I ever…broken a bone," Alec said. I put my cup to my lips, taking a small sip. Jace took a big swig.

Noticing our awkward stares, he commented, "I've broken lots of bones, figured I should take a bigger drink for that." We went around the group a couple of times, laughing and starting a conversation about things we have or haven't done, learning interesting and random things about each other. It was my turn again, and I was out of ideas.

"Never have I ever…" I began, pausing a moment to think, "kissed a girl." I watched the boys' cups raise, each of them gulping down its contents. Alec was about to go when Izzy lifted hers up, too.

"Izzy!" Alec said, surprised, "Who?" She looked around feigning sheepishness, though undoubtedly excited the attention was on her. She shifted her gaze to her nails, examining the crimson lacquer.

"Oh, my roommate Kaelie. It was…interesting," she said smirking. Jace and Alec looked away, disgusted by their sister, or in Jace's case, practically sister. Only Simon stared in awe, jaw dropped and everything. Jace and I decided that we better wrap things up there. Magnus left, glitter and rainbows swirling in his wake. Simon was about to follow when Izzy curled her arms around his wrist dragging him to her room, correction, **MY **room. I groaned rolling my eyes at the boys as I dumped the contents of our cups down the toilet, having been told Prescott monitored the things dumped down the sink, which was hopefully just a sick rumor. Alec glared at the wall, not too thrilled about his sister's actions. Jace crouched down by him and said something. Alec got up swiftly and went to his bedroom, staring intensely at the floor. I dropped onto the couch, kicking my feet up onto the coffee table. I saw Jace walked out with a pillow and a blanket.

"Thanks," I told him, reaching for them. He held them out of my reach. I pouted as he lay down on the couch with the pillow and the blanket. "Jace…"

"Shut it, Clary. You're sleeping in my bed." I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, sending him a silent message that I wasn't taking his bed from him. He rolled onto his side and closed his miraculous golden eyes, pretending to snore.

"Jace," I said quietly. He continued to pretend to sleep. "I don't have any pajamas, and this dress is very uncomfortable." Jace's mouth fell into a frown.

"I like that dress," he growled playfully. I rolled onto my side to face him better. We had stretched out on the couches across from each other.

"I'm sleeping here."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Nope."

"Yep."

"Nope." This childish argument continued for a little bit, until Jace decided he'd had enough, crossing over to my couch and scooping me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest. He walked peacefully to his room, not even fazed by the struggles I attempted to put against his hold. He set me on the bed and dug around his room, pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. He tossed them to me. "Go change," he said, pointing to his own private bathroom. "Before I follow you," he added waggling his eyebrows seductively. I stumbled to the bathroom, under his spell. On the way, I noticed Jace's room was tidy and held barely any personal items. I slipped into his t-shirt, which was like a dress on me. I skipped the shorts, knowing they would just fall down anyways. Entering the room again, I saw Jace had left, but not before pulling the blankets back for me to slide in between his sheets. I walked to his computer desk, picking up some of the frames he had on there. A picture of Alec, Izzy, and him was in one. Another was of me and him, taken by Jon at a water park we had went to when we were kids. I smiled at the memory, putting down the picture and turning around, running into someone. I looked up and saw Jace staring blankly over my head, his golden hair tousled and his eyes glazing over with a memory. I dropped my head back down, staring straight at his bare chest. I gulped, looking down and seeing the most perfect six-pack, one that would surely put Taylor Lautner's to shame. I tentatively reached up and traced his muscles, following the lines, feeling his abdominals tense beneath my touch. I was a little bit in shock by my sudden urge to lick them.

He froze completely as I traced a jagged scar ripping angrily across his chest, one his father had given him, the one that caused him to hide in my room for five days, before his mother finally called worried. I lifted my lips to it and kissed it gently, feeling his hands stroke my curly, red hair. He relaxed a little, leaning down to peck me on top of my head. In a moment, he was gone, leaving me to stare at his perfectly sculpted back as he left. I slipped into his bed silently, not content with that kind of a goodnight. I stood up and padded barefoot to the living room, seeing a lump on the couch. I crawled on top of him, slapping his cheeks until he opened his eyes. "Good morning, sunshine!" I told him, reaching down and rubbing my nose against him. At this point, I was sure Jace had spiked my drink. I grabbed his hands and pulled him up, leading him back to his bedroom. "You're sleeping in here, but I swear, if you try anything stupid, you will regret it." He chuckled, replying with a yes 'am , his voice thick with sleep. He slid into the bed on the opposite side, his fingers finding mine. I turned to face him and snuggled into his warm muscular chest, whispering goodnight.

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><p><em>There's your shirtless Jace! There will be a better one in the future...just thought I'd sneak a little bit in there because you asked :) hehe tell me what you think, constructive critisizm is welcome :)<em>


	10. Chapter 9

_Warning: Sad, well to me it is...but it was time for some drama haha MY BASKETBALL TEAM TOTALLY BEAT OUR BIGGEST OPPONENT! WHOOT WHOOT! :)_

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><p>I woke up in Jace's warm embrace, my back flush with his perfectly chiseled chest, molding to him perfectly. We had scooted over to my side of the bed, and I was teetering precariously on the edge. I scooted myself more onto the bed and closer to Jace. He was snoring softly beside me, and I twisted carefully in the circle of his strong arms, seeing him lying peacefully on a pillow, his hair standing up every which way, his eyelashes grazing his cheeks in sleep. He looked so innocent, his kissable lips slightly parted, forming a pink "O." His face was pink with warmth, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. I reached out tentatively and traced my finger down his cheek, feeling him shiver beneath my touch. His breathing remained steady, constant. I ran my finger along his strong collarbone, tracing down his chest and back up again, running my finger over his rippling muscles. Jace slept through my gentle touches, his breath hitching slightly whenever something must have felt good. I closed my eyes beside him and smiled to myself. For now, I was completely content, though I had a feeling it wouldn't last long. The bedroom door creaked open, and the bed bounced under added weight, throwing me to the floor. I smacked my head on the wood.<p>

"Good morning, Jacey Wacey," a female voice purred. I rolled over, rubbing my temple and seeing a bleach-blond girl running her manicured nails down the side of Jace's face. And he was smiling, his eyes still closed, but he was smiling. The girl had her legs straddling his waist, squirming on top of him, pressing her crimson lips to his. Jace's fingers tangled in her hair, and he pulled her closer to him. She giggled loudly. I felt like I was going to vomit.

"…Clary," Jace moaned happily, his voice thick with sleep. The girl's smiled, slightly taken aback. I stood up, brushing myself off, realizing I was still wearing Jace's t-shirt.

"I'm Kaelie, your girlfriend," she pouted, making a puppy dog face with her blue eyes as Jace's own golden eyes flew open, "but I like it when you call me Clary." I didn't stay and watch the rest play out, I sprinted to my room and tugged on some jeans. I hopped on one leg to pull on a boot while collecting my purse. After that, I shoved my arms through my coat sleeves and stomped to the door. My fingers wrapped around the cool metal handle as I heard someone calling for me behind me.

"Clary!" Obviously it was Jace. "Clary, she's not my girlfriend. I broke up with her." Kaelie's whiny voice was added to the conversation.

"You think you can get rid of me via text message, not likely." She was running her fingers down his chest, but Jace brushed them away, wrapping his hand around my wrist.

"Don't go," he pleaded to me, his golden eyes desperate. I ripped my hand from his grip, continuing to march down the hallway. I stumbled down the stairs, knowing it would be faster and throw Jace off my trail. What just happened? I felt so ashamed. How could I ever think that plain old me and perfect Jace Herondale could ever be together? I pushed through the heavy, fire-proof door and into the lobby. I sprinted to the door, people giving me awkward stares as I exited, hailing a taxi. I slid into the car that smelled like gasoline, pressing my back tightly against the seat, avoiding a breakdown.

"Central Park, please," I told the cab driver, hiding my glistening eyes. He sped off down the road, buildings flying by in blurs of grays and metallic colors. My eyes couldn't focus. My vision was dotted with red spots. Before I knew it, the cab pulled over, its brakes squeaking and the stench of burning rubber in the air. I handed the driver a wad of cash, not even bothering to count it. I strode straight through the grass, leaves crunching, the brisk fall air nipping my cheeks. Sliding down to the ground and leaning my back against a tree, I dropped my face into my hands, my fingers barely catching the falling tears. More than once a concerned passerby stopped to ask if I was alright. I rudely waved them all away, far too low in a black hole to even care. I pulled a sketch pad and my pencils out of my purse and began drawing, everything and anything. The world swirled around me as I lost track of time, my artwork once again consuming my attention. Glorious buildings, bare trees, and random visitors appeared before me on the crisp paper, my hand guiding the wooden pencil that created every perfect feature. I shaded, traced, thickened, and thinned lines until my fingers were shiny and silver. I looked back to admire my work, shoving this morning far out of my mind, but only for a minute. I had barely noticed Jace's face work itself into my drawing. When I saw him, in my picture, smiling at nothing in particular, I screamed and threw the paper away from me, watching mothers usher their children away from me. I didn't care. I wasn't able to care about anything in that state.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them. I wiped my tears quickly and heard my phone vibrate. I dove into my purse. Caller ID told me it was Jace. I threw the phone back into my purse and went back to sulking. Steam was practically seething off my in waves, keeping pedestrians away from me. I mentally slapped myself. I was Clarissa Morgenstern. I don't sulk. I ball. I pulled myself off the ground, rubbing the tears from my cheeks with my thin, shaking fingers. I took a deep calming breath, trying to regain composure, also trying to convince myself no one was staring at my puffy, red eyes.

Hailing another taxi, I asked him to drive me back to Prescott. Handing the driver another wad of cash, I hopped out, into the elevator. I completely skipped the fourth floor, going straight up to the gym. The elevator dinged, announcing my presence. I pushed straight through the glass doors, crossing to the sidelines in large strides. I threw off my coat, wiped my boots on the rug and stepped out into the middle of the court. I stood there for a moment, spinning in circles, looking from hoop to hoop. I saw a ball sitting alone on the endline. Snatching the stray ball, I began to run drills: defense drills, lay-up drills, jump shot drills, anything to keep my mind of the events that had already happened this morning. I ran them at an oddly rapid pace, trying to channel all my anger, sadness, and frustration into my playing. When I was panting, I began to shoot threes. I swished my eleventh three-pointer in a row when I heard a slow clap echo from the side. I turned slowly, my green eyes darting to the corner. There, Paul leaned calmly against the wall, his eyes appraising me.

"Not now," I growled between clenched teeth, "I'm only worried about dropping the ball through the hoop, right now." I turned away, swishing a twelfth.

"Well, baby, how about if I drop my ball through your hoop, does that count?" He wagged his eyebrows at me, his greasy brown hair matted atop his head. Thirteenth. I turned around and chucked the ball at him, smacking him in the face.

"Do you _like_ rejection?" I screamed. "Because you keep coming back for more!" Paul's plain brown eyes blinked twice. Fourteenth swish. All of a sudden I was blindsided, being dragged into the locker room by my hair.

"Rejection?" His breath was rank and hot on my face. I tried to turn my head, but he forced me to look forward. "I intend to get exactly what I want." I pinned me to the floor, my head smacking on the ground for the second time today. "You know you want it," he cooed into my ear, sliding my shirt over my head. "You love me, don't you?" I shook my head wildly back and forth, and he slapped me across the face, a loud snap echoing through the locker room. "Say it, say that you love me." I pressed my lips together, squirming, trying to kick or punch him, but he held my wrists above my head. Hot tears rolled down my face as he tugged his own shirt off, exposing his exceptionally large gut. A strange set of lyrics began running through my head. I couldn't place them, but I knew that the band was Seether. Soon, the sound was drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears, my adrenaline rushing. He pulled off my jeans, soon followed by his own. I squirmed so that my fists were against the wall, something the Paul didn't stop, he seemed to like it. "Baby, you're going to like this," he said, pressing his swollen lips to mine, and sliding off my panties. I took this as my opportunity, suppressing a scream. Using the wall for leverage, I pushed and swung my feet up, putting pressure on my back. I connected with Paul's stomach, hearing the _oof_ as air exited his throat.

In the moment of shock, his hands had released their death grip on me. I stood up and kicked him in the face, satisfied by the ugly cracking sound his nose made. Thick, red blood oozed out as I pulled my clothes back on. With another glare in his direction, I stormed out of the gym and to a random level of Prescott, hoping Paul hadn't followed me, hoping he would never find me. I finally placed the lyrics, the song on a continuous loop in my head. I leaned into the wall for support, my tears falling freely from my eyes. Sure I had stopped him, but what did it matter? I was already broken.

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open_

_And I don't feel like I am strong enough_

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome_

_And I don't feel right when you're gone away._


	11. Chapter 10

_Hey! It's my birthday in exactly three hours and twenty-two minutes! :) YAY! haha I'm so excited! Hope you like, kinda took one of my old stories that I had just written and plopped it in here, it fit perfectly. Hope you enjoy! Otherwise...tell me why you didn't :D hehe I'm really happy today._

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><p>I sat on the chairs, grabbing my water bottle and staring intently at the coach as he drew x's and o's on his whiteboard. My green eyes glazed over, watching Kaelie lift a sign in the stands that said, "#24 is my boyfriend." I blinked away tears, sweat dripping from my forehead onto my lap. I vaguely remember our hands gathering in the center of the huddle and dropping as we screamed, "Team." The timeout was over, and we were down by two with eight seconds left on the clock. The only part I had listened to of the coach's speech was him telling the others to pass it to Clary. Me. They were counting on me. The coach had confidence in me, and by the slaps on my back as we left the huddle, the team had confidence in my, but after this weekend, I had no confidence. I barely knew who I was. One afternoon had not been enough to cope.<p>

A Monday game was not what I was looking forward to. The ref handed Jace the ball. I barely looked at him as he inbounded it to me and ran down the court like lighting, my eyes focused farther down the court, counting the seconds to the win. This was it. The pressure was like a weight on my shoulders, trying to drag me down to the point of no return. For some unknown reason, I liked it, for I was unyielding, yet it had no avail. My beat up, gold high tops squeaked against the wooden gymnasium floor as I sprinted down the court, green eyes focused on nothing but the hoop as the ball bounced rhythmically between the wood and my hand. A bead of sweat rolled down my face and splattered against my jersey that bore my lucky number, 21. I felt my curly, red ponytail bouncing between my shoulder blades. My peripheral vision told me that not one of my teammates was open, ready for a pass. The opponent's defense was being laid on thick. I was one-on-one with my defender, my favorite game time situation. He was short and big-boned, not fat, just sort of thick and stocky. His brown hair was pulled into ragged looking dreadlocks, his black skin contrasting with his white jersey. His white headband had yellowed with sweat. His face was flushed, and he was beginning to tire of this game, this sport even. I could just tell, there was no spark in his brown eyes, no joy. His sweaty jersey had the number 14 sewn onto it, and the smell of cheap deodorant emanated off his skin the closer I came to him. The chanting of the crowd in the stands was a dull hum shoved to the back of my mind. Only did I pay attention when they began to shout the seconds remaining in the game. Five seconds I had to make my move. The large scoreboard suspended above the court showed the navy-colored Bulldogs, my team, were losing by two points to the white and purple Warriors. One quick look around told me that my team still wasn't open. I stared into the short boy's charcoal eyes. He had slacked off me, trying to block any move to the basket I could possibly make, cutting off any hope of a lay-up. This was her fatal mistake. My pale hands caught the ball on the last bounce of my dribble. I did this so quickly, so unexpectedly that number 14 couldn't react. Two seconds left. I bent my knees slightly, preparing for the shot. My eyes focused just over the front of the orange rim as I thrust my arms upward, releasing the ball as I did. The ball was arching toward the hoop as the buzzer rang loud and proud in my ears.

Nobody did anything, or reacted to it. All eyes were locked on the orange sphere that seemed to hurtle toward the rim in slow-motion. A definite swish filled the silenced gymnasium. The referees, adorned in stripes, threw their hairy arms up toward the ceiling, signaling the three. It took a minute for the crowd to react. Cheers erupted from the Bulldogs' faithful fans as the Warriors' fans made up an excuse about how the time was out before I shot or that I had travelled. I didn't pay attention to their sad grumbles. My toes no longer touched the ground as I was lifted onto the sweaty shoulders of my many teammates. I looked to the bench and saw the coach smiling proudly at me, saw Paul sitting on the bench with a bandage across his crooked nose, and Kaelie wrapping herself around Jace, kissing him aggressively. I slid off the shoulders of my teammates and went to my lonely locker room, changing slowly, skipping the team huddle at the end. I couldn't bear to look at the people that caused this pain. My ears buzzed and my face stung with sweat. I threw my sweatshirt over my head in a desperate attempt to cover the bruises Paul had given me, trying to hide the past. I walked slowly out of the room, my footsteps clacking against the tile. When I came out, I was bombarded by people. "Whoa, thanks, guys." I told them as the squeezed the breath out of me. I forced a smile, trying to sound as sincere was I was able to when I told them that I was going to sleep. I went to leave, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Oh, no, you're not," said a very, very familiar voice. I turned around slowly, a true grin growing on my face. When I was face-to-face with my pursuer, I hurtled myself into his arms.

"Jonathon!" I squealed excitedly, jumping up and down with happiness. He hugged me tightly, complaining that I hadn't talked to him much lately. I shrugged.

"It's been, uh, hectic." That was major downplay, but Jon seemed to buy it, his eyes softening as he pulled me in for another bear hug.

"Hey, now, don't steal the superstar," another voice from home said.

"Maia!" I greeted, switching from my brothers strong embrace to her warm one. "I missed you!" She agreed. I looked at both of them, noticing my parents standing behind them, smiling proudly. I hugged them both, my sadness forgotten for now. "What are you guys doing here?" I asked, looking at each one, trying to memorize their faces.

The all exchanged glances, excitement building in their expressions. "Happy 16th birthday, Clary!" The said all together, wrapping me in more hugs. I laughed nervously. How had I forgotten my own birthday? They rocked me from side to side saying that they had been planning this since the day I got the letter. I squirmed out of the hug, sweat forming on my forehead. They looked at me awkwardly, and I flicked away the perspiration.

"Sorry, kinda hot in the center." They laughed and followed me back to my dorm room, practically skipping into the elevator.

"Clary, you're shot was very sloppy," my dad chastised, plopping onto the sofa. There was a smile on his face, but I knew he meant it. I nodded and slid down on the other couch, propping my feet on the coffee table. The door flew open, and Alec waltzed in, his hair perfectly rinsed after the game, his button-down as crisp as if it had been ironed. He looked at all of us gathered in the center, then shrugged, continuing to his room. My brother shot me a questioning look, but I waved it off, looking back at my family.

"I can't believe my baby is sixteen," my mother's voice shook. She was holding back tears. "It, it seems like only weeks ago you said your first word." The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, her red hair in a soft braid, lying across her shoulder. My father rubbed her back. She wiped away her running mascara, laughing at herself. "Look at me. I'm a mess." I laughed, watching warily as Maia handed me a present wrapped in purple and tied with a gold bow. I gave them all a you-know-I-don't-like-gifts look, but the prompted me to open it. I slid off the ribbon, hoping to save the shiny gold bow. I carefully peeled the tape of at the edges, wasting as much time as I possibly could. I opened it and slid out a box with a Nike swoosh on the top. I looked up at them, my lips parting in a surprised smile.

"You guys…" I said, smiling and shaking my head as I pulled out the pristine gold high tops, "this is the best." I hugged them all tightly, and then slipped my feet into the shoes, lacing them up and taking them for a test run. I shuffled and ran and jump stopped. They were amazing. My father laughed at me, glancing at his watch. He lifted himself off the sofa, ushering everyone toward the door.

"Time to go back to the hotel," he offered as an explanation, though I knew family events bothered him. "Clary has school tomorrow." He kissed me atop my head and followed the rest out the door, all of them mumbling their goodbyes and see you tomorrows. I shut and locked the door behind them, my strength and smile evaporating as the ones who loved me left me. I sank down onto a barstool and traced intricate patterns on the countertop with my fingertips.

"Happy birthday to me," I sang under my breath, feeling a tear building in the corner of my eyes. "Happy birthday to me." My head snapped up, the tear flinging away, as I heard a high-pitched giggle sound from the doorway.

"Jace, stop!" she whined, giggling uncontrollably. I saw them round the corner, hands all over each other. I ducked my head behind a veil of curly red hair. "Aw," she cooed, "It's crybaby Clary." She picked my head up, looking into my cloudy green eyes. "Call me when your boobs come in," she laughed, dropping my head so harshly it bobbled a couple of times. I stood up, a few inches shorter than her, but stronger than her.

I shoved her as I walked by her, smiling at the thump she made when she hit the floor, and then retorting over my shoulder, "Call me when your balls fall off." She stuttered for a minute. I could almost hear the wheels of her brain squeaking with the amount of effort it took her to think. She finally began to say something, following me to my bedroom, but I didn't stay to hear. I slammed my door in her face, plopping onto my desk chair and spinning in a circle, putting my iPod earbuds in my ears and pressing play.

I looked at the photo of Jon, Jace and I sitting atop the mahogany desk, a sudden ball of rage building in my gut. I wrenched the headphones out of my ears and threw the photo at the wall, a sob of grief and anger arising from my throat. It floated delicately to the ground, cutting wide arcs through the air, reminding me slightly of a feather. The weight pressing down on me wasn't like a bunch of feathers, it was more like a bunch of bricks, slowly and painfully squeezing the life out of me, adding a little more pressure every time the crack in my heart was chiseled in a little deeper. I blinked away the red spots clouding my vision. I heard a soft brush as the photo landed on the floor. I heard Kaelie's voice from the next door bedroom. I heard the squeak of bedsprings, and Jace's low murmuring voice. I sprinted to the bathroom, sat on the closed toilet lid, and cried.

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><p><em>So, you guys by now have realized that I don't hold back chapters because of reviews, but comments are very welcome...they inspire me and make me smile big smiles that make my friends look at me like I'm crazy...which I am ;) hehe but seriously, suggestions help me lots! and thanks for the little Spanish correction...I typed that really really fast and I am actually very good at Spanish, just kinda slipped my mind...but thanks so much for catching it! You're awesome!<em>


	12. Chapter 11

_So I wanted to give you guys a peak into Jace's mind, and this was the only way I found possible. JACE'S POV! :) Enjoy!_

_::Starts at the club when Clary talked Jace into playing::_

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><p><strong>Jace's POV<strong>

Electricity buzzed between Clary and me as we leaned against the backstage walls of Pandemonium. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I informed her, smirking. She looked stunning in her sparkly, black dress, her blazing hair twisted intricately into an effortlessly beautiful twist on her shoulder. I shifted closer automatically, my body yearning for me to be closer to her at all times. "Although there wasn't much talking in the persuasion at all, was there?" I ghosted my fingertips over hers, wanting nothing more than to hold her and never let go. Her brilliant smile dazzled me as the blush in her cheeks deepened. I couldn't stand it. I didn't know whether it was the strobe lights sparkling in her eyes, the seductive scent of her sweet perfume, or just Clary herself that caused me to place me lips against her slightly parted pink ones. "You don't play fair at all, Morgen," I commented breathlessly, tasting her minty breath on my tongue. I smirked and chuckled as her breathing hitched in her throat, knowing that she had the same effect on me. I was about to tangle my fingers into her hair, pull her lips to mine, when someone so rudely interrupted me.

"Hey, guys!" shouted the nerd from behind me. Clary and I flinched apart, much to my dismay. "You ready, pretty boy?" I whirled around, facing Simon in his black band t-shirt and smeared glasses lenses.

"That's _Mr._ Pretty Boy to you!" I turned swiftly away from him, grabbing my metallic blue electric guitar from its proud perch next to a beat up bass guitar. I looked down myself and sighed. Simon had forced me to put on a tight white v-neck shirt that showed off more than I would have pleased to. Then he had tossed my worn dark jeans and told me that I would probably look good in them. After a few moments of awkward silence, I had told him that _I _made anything look good. He told me my ring looked good with the outfit and that I could keep it. As if I would have let that scrawny nerd boss me around that much. I turned back to Clary, taking one last look at her. My golden eyes drank her in. I flashed her a grin and disappeared behind the thick red curtain and into the blinding, white lights.

I walked to my post, sliding the leather guitar strap over my shoulder and plugging it into the amp. I pretended to strum a few notes, preparing for the big show. Simon looked around, checking to make sure everyone was ready, then he banged his drum sticks together. _One, two, three, four!_ I began to play, my fingers effortlessly maneuvering the strings, notes slipping off them smoothly, perfectly.

Simon's band was loud, very much a metal band. I dropped my head over the guitar, my golden hair falling over my face, blocking it. The singer, Eric, began screaming into the microphone, and for some odd reason, the crowd went wild. I looked up quickly, seeing Clary and Isabelle right up front. My fingers missed a beat as I got lost in Clary's smile. I tipped my head down again, regaining my composure and keeping up better with the band. A few songs in, sweat was dripping from my t-shirt. I had my head bent over the guitar, squeezing my eyes shut in concentration. I was preparing for my solo when some odd force told me to look up. I complied, meeting gazes with the most perfect green eyes in the room. She smiled, and I winked in return, launching into my guitar solo with a new found confidence. Clary began dancing and laughing, and soon Izzy joined her, as if they were the best of friends.

Finally, the lights dimmed and we disappeared behind the stage, but only for a moment. The crowd chanted for an encore, and as I jogged back to my guitar, they roared, as if we were the most famous band ever. I played the intro as the rest of the band joined me on stage, taking their places behind their instruments and playing with everything they had left. The moment the song ended, I smiled and ran off the stage, hating being separated from my Clary. My Clary! Where did that come from? I didn't have any idea, but for some odd reason. I liked the sound of that.

I received numerous slaps on the back and good jobs from Simon's band mates and people that had watched the show. I thanked each of them politely, but skirted around them quickly enough that they wouldn't start a long, boring conversation. I found Clary and Izzy in the middle of the dance floor, their hips still moving to an invisible beat. I steered both of them to my car, putting a little more effort into keeping a tipsy Izzy on her feet. I buckled her safely in the back of my new Cadillac and hopped into the front seat, speeding out of the parking lot as quickly as my shiny car was able to drive. Izzy reached forward and cranked the radio, slurring the lyrics to songs and completely messing up the words. I caught Clary's gaze a few times in the mirror, smiling at her when I did.

Soon, we reached the dorm, and I helped Izzy into the room. "I'm sssspending the night with you guyssss," Izzy informed us in her drunken slang. She tipped onto Clary's bed, her arms and legs spread across the blankets. Clary comically rolled her eyes at me, but kindly allowed Izzy to stay, shutting the door quietly behind her. I still heard Izzy's snoring from behind the heavy wooden door.

I followed Clary into the living room, her black dress bouncing with the swing of her walk. She plopped on the couch and turned the TV to mute, pressing her palm to her cheek and supporting her face with her elbow. I did what I used to do when we were kids. I sat on her.

She squirmed and giggled below me, trying relentlessly to get me off of her, but all I did was sit there, perfectly balanced on her hip, laughing at her weak attempts. Her touch caught me off guard. My muscles trembled as she ran her finger over my damp t-shirt that clung to my back. I turned around and saw the awe in her eyes as she traced the planes of my back gently, her finger barely gliding along the surface. I toppled off of her and onto the other half of the couch. I took deep breaths, trying to calm the electric shocks reverberating through my body. I leaned my head against the back of the couch, allowing my eyelids to droop as I did, concentrating on keeping myself calm. I blinked a few times and heard someone come lumbering toward me. "Let'ssss play a drinking game," Izzy said, now fully awake and teetering precariously on her two legs. I groaned, looking at Clary. She nodded and we pushed Izzy gently onto the couch. She giggled as we slid her dangerous high heels off her feet and placed them away at a safe distance.

With a little bit of pouting, she was able to make Clary and I comply, so we began playing Never Have I Ever. Simon knocked at the door, and Clary went to usher him in. Alec and his boyfriend joined us a little bit later, and we were all laughing. We soon found out way too much information about each other, that I had to call it a night. Izzy ushered Simon back to Clary's bedroom, and I watched Alec glare at the wall. Clary noticed the two headed to her bedroom, and she shot me a look, dumping our drinks down the toilet. I had to tear my gaze away from her bent body when I went and crouched down by Alec.

"What's up, bro?" Alec's eyes twitched in my direction, but soon returned to the innocent spot on the wall.

"They're closing themselves off in a bedroom…alone," Alec's voice was strained, kind of tortured. There's really nothing you can do when your sister decides she wants to spend the night with a boy.

"How's that different from you and Magnus closing yourselves off?" Alec's lips parted in shock as his blue eyes stared at my mouth, probably wondering whether I had really said that or not.

"How did you know?"

"Dude, you're my bro. How could I not know?" Alec stood up swiftly and stomped to his bedroom, his gaze dropped to the floor in embarrassment. I watched him go, then quickly snatched a pillow and blanket from my bedroom. When I returned, Clary had dropped onto the couch, her eyes drooping sleepily and her feet up on the coffee table.

"Thanks," she said, her arms stretching out to take the pillow and blanket. I pulled them away, nearly melted by her pout as I stretched out on the opposite couch. "Jace…"

"Shut it, Clary," I said quickly. "You're sleeping in my bed." I don't know whether the reason I said this was because I wanted Clary to be comfortable, or I just wanted to say she had been in my bed. I put my arms behind my head and closed my eyes as she glared at me. She was silent, so I began to make loud, obvious snoring noises.

"Jace," her voice said quietly. I ignored her, snoring louder than before. "I don't have any pajamas," my breathing sped up, "and this dress is very uncomfortable. I frowned, looking Clary's gorgeous black dress up and down. She looked so hot in it that it was hard for me to believe it was uncomfortable.

"I like that dress," I growled as she rolled on her side to face me. She batted her thick lashes, her green eyes trying to melt me. And it was working. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'm sleeping here," she told me, determined.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." We used to argue about things like this all the time when we were kids. Finally, the back and forth got old, and the pull drawing me closer to Clary became unbearable. I scooped her up into my arms and held her close to my chest as I walked to my room. Her hits and kicks barely unbalanced my walk as I set her on my bed and dug for a t-shirt and shorts. "Go change," I commanded, tossing her the clothes. "Before I follow you." I raised and lowered my eyebrows and watched her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. I left the room, laying down on the couch and closing my eyes, twisting, trying to get comfortable.

I heard the door to my bathroom creak quietly open and realized I hadn't said goodnight to the most beautiful girl in the world. I trekked back to my room, standing silently behind Clary as she smiled at the picture on my desk, her eyes glazed over with the memory. She had only put on my t-shirt, hanging loosely around her body and barely brushing the tops of her thighs. She set the picture down and turned around. I saw her look at my face then drop her gaze, staring at my bare chest.

Her finger followed the hard lines of my torso, tracing them carefully, accurately. Then she tentatively reached up and gingerly traced the angry scar that tore across my chest, undoubtedly thinking what I was thinking. My father had given it to me when I had gotten a B on my report card. He had slashed I knife across my chest. And I did what I'd always done. I ran to Clary. I had stumbled through her window and fell into her waiting arms, my face as hard as it usually was. She broke my thoughts when she gently kissed the scar, and I realized I had been tousling her perfect curly hair. I sighed inaudibly and kissed the crown of her head, sweeping silently out of the room. I could almost feel her frown on my back.

I fell onto the sofa and sprawled out, inhaling a deep breath and closing my eyes. I was thinking of lovely Clary, sleeping all alone in my bed. I shifted on the couch, squeezing my eyes tighter and pulling the blanket up over my torso. I kept my eyes firmly closed when there was a sudden pressure above me. Clary was straddling my waist, slapping my cheeks. "Good morning, sunshine!" Clary crooned happily as I opened my eyes. She began to rub her nose against mine, her minty breath mingling with mine. Before I could properly kiss her, she wrapped her fingers around mine and pulled me up off the sofa, tugging me toward my bedroom. At first I fought back a little, but she smiled and nodded at me. I watched her slide between my sheets. She lifted her fingers and curled them toward her, beckoning me closer.

"You're sleeping in here, but I swear, if you try anything stupid, you will regret it," she threatened. I laughed.

"Yes 'am," I replied, cringing slightly at how throaty my voice sounded. I crawled into bed on the opposite side, struck momentarily with déjà vu. All those nights spent with Clary flooding into my mind. This time, thought, my fingers sought hers, and when they brushed, we threaded them together. She sighed contentedly, turning to face me. I felt her snuggle deeper into my chest and whisper goodnight. Her breathing evened out quickly, and I wrapped my arms around her, kissing the top of her head. I had yearned for this for so many years. The torture of sleeping next to an angel, but not being able to touch her had pained me for years, but now, she was there, sleeping quietly in my arms. I pulled her closer to me and listened to her quiet breaths, kissing her cheek or her hair every so often. This was Clary, the girl I had loved since I was eight. I kissed her on her nose and allowed the unyielding darkness to pull me under.

I woke to the bed bouncing violently, someone squirming on top of me. _Clary,_ I thought, smiling. "Good morning, Jacey Wacey," the person cooed. My eyes were still closed, but my body was buzzing as she slid her fingers down the side of my face. I smiled, feeling her position herself more comfortably on top of me and pull my lips to hers.

It was wrong. So wrong. "Clary?" I meant to ask as question, but it came out as more of a moan.

"I'm Kaelie, your girlfriend," she pouted. My eyes flew open, looking wildly at Isabelle's psycho roommate that had gotten a key to my dorm room and bombarded into my bedroom, throwing my actual favorite girl off the bed and informing me that she was my girlfriend, "but I like it when you call me Clary." I saw Clary fly out of my bedroom and down the hall, tears streaming down her face.

I pushed Kaelie away as she tried to kiss me again. "You'll never be my Clary," I told her, shoving her off of me and rushing after my favorite ginger. "Clary!" I called after her. "Clary, she' not my girlfriend. I broke up with her—" I was about to add the words two years ago when Kaelie decided it was time to chime in.

"You think you can get rid of me via text message? Not likely." Her icy blue eyes ran over my body as her icy fingertips traced my chest. Not gently like Clary's caresses, but roughly, her nails leaving red marks. I shook them away, reaching out for Clary's hand, but only making contact with her wrist.

"Don't go," I pleaded, willing to get down on my knees or shove Kaelie out the window if the would have pleased her. Her green eyes glared at me as she wrenched her hand from my grasp. I watched her red curls bounce down the hallway, frozen in shock.

"Hey, babe. Now that the pasty white, hideously red-haired girl is gone, let's go have some fun!" she took my hand and tried to lead me away from the open door, but I was stuck. It wasn't enough for Kaelie to take Clary away from me, she had to go and insult her too. I shook her hand off mine and stomped out the door, pressing the up button on the elevator. "Where you going babe?" Kaelie asked, nearly following me into the elevator.

"To find my girl," I replied, shutting the doors on her face. I pressed the button that took me to Simon's floor, flying down the hallway to my old roommate's dorm room. I banged loudly on the door, waiting for Simon, then banging some more. I smacked myself in the face when I realized that Simon was in my dorm room. In Clary's bed. With Isabelle. I swallowed some vomit as I pushed the lobby button. I searched the lobby, the coffee shop, even the little gift shops, but Clary wasn't anywhere to be found. I got back into the elevator and banged my fists against the closed door.

I pushed the button to the last place I thought that I could find her. The gym. The doors dinged upon my arrival. I sprinted into the gym and looked around. Empty. I heard noise from the locker room. I ran there, throwing open the door. There was Clary, making out with Paul on the floor. I backed away slowly, my hands raised in the air. No one had noticed me. I flew down the stairs to my room, flinging myself through the door and to my bathroom. I banged my fists against the counter, growling cuss words underneath my breath. When I looked back up in the mirror, Kaelie was standing behind me, comforting me. My face was red hot with anger. She placed her cool hands against my cheeks, and whispered sweet things against my lips. When your hurt, I guess, you look for comfort in anything and everything. The first thing to give it to you, you will take. Kaelie kissed me harshly and for some odd reason, I found myself liking it.

I found myself allowing Kaelie to kiss me whenever she wanted, but all the while I was thinking of Clary. After Monday's game, I was thinking of Clary's winning shot. Walking in and Kaelie insulting her, I was thinking how hot Clary was when she stood up for herself. I think I allowed myself to be with Kaelie because when I was with her, I was always with Clary in a way too. My thoughts were always of Clary. Every time I entered a room, my eyes automatically scanned for her perfect red curls, and if I spotted her, I found myself pining to be closer to her, wanting nothing more than to lace my fingers through hers and kiss her lips. I couldn't stand the fact that Paul was constantly looking at her though. I couldn't stand the fact that after she thought I had a girlfriend, she ran off to her boyfriend. But somehow, I wasn't mad at Clary. I was more mad at myself for some unexplainable reasoning. Yet I stood around as Kaelie stroked my hair and Clary watched with hurt eyes. I was such a jerk, but I wouldn't admit it to anyone else but myself.

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><p><em>So...understand Jace a little more? Tell me if it was good, because I realize that I will never, ever! be a teenage boy. and that is seriously a solid never :D <em>


	13. Chapter 12

_Hmm…Drama, drama, drama…there has been nothing but drama at my school, so I guess it's working its way into my story…oh well…I had fun writing this chapter…kind of…didn't expect the ending, but when I get typing, I'm barely aware of what I'm typing so it literally just flowed of my fingertips. hope you enjoy!_

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><p>Tuesday morning came, and I rolled out of bed, wiping my eyes and shaking the effects of sleep. I braided my hair to the side and pulled a soft brown sweater over my head. I pulled on my skinny jeans and boots, then went to brush my teeth. I leaned against the granite countertop and scrubbed my teeth with the sudsy toothpaste, thinking about yesterday. I peeked around the slightly ajar door, seeing my new gold high tops perched proudly atop a pristine shoe box. I smiled to myself. I was sixteen now. I spit the toothpaste out and rinsed my mouth, gurgling excessively to remove the toothpaste taste. Then, I wiped my lips and walked back to my bedroom, pulling the comforter up neatly over the mattress. Then I slipped my school books into my backpack. I pulled the strap over my shoulder and walked to the kitchen.<p>

Like usual, Alec was perched at the breakfast bar, head bowed over his cell phone, texting Magnus no doubt. "Morning, Clary," he said without looking up. It was obvious that he was trying to be nicer to me. I walked around the counter and poked my nose into the fridge, finding some leftover pancakes from the weekend.

"Good morning, Alec!" I replied cheerfully. I plopped the pancakes onto a plate and shoved them into the microwave, the buttons beeping as I pushed them. The microwave began to hum as it spun my pancakes around and around heating them up. "How did you sleep?" I leaned my elbows against the counter across from Alec. He looked up, and his eyes were rimmed with purple bags.

"Uh, actually, I didn't," he looked back down to his phone, feverishly typing on the small keypad. We sat in silence for a minute, until the microwave beeped. I pulled my pancakes out and doused them in sticky syrup, sticking my finger under it to stop the flow. I shoved it back in the fridge and noisily licked my fingertip.

"Um, Alec, do you mind if I ask you something?" Alec nodded, not looking at me, still looking at the glowing screen.

"Why were you crying the other day?" He looked up, startled, his blue eyes darting wildly back and forth. He cleared his throat. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to…" I said quickly, trying to cover my tracks. He put up his hand.

"No, no, you basically already know." He took a deep breath, his mouth opening but no words coming out. He closed his lips again, squeezing his eyes shut. Without opening them, he articulated, "That, was the day that I found out I was attracted to men." He exhaled loudly, opening his magnificent blue eyes. I reached over and patted him on the shoulder. He ducked his head for a moment, and I just sat there, arm outstretched, hand touching his shoulder. Suddenly, his head shot up, a spark in his blue eyes. "You're turn, Clary." I nodded, wondering what question he could possibly have for me.

"This weekend, I was leaving Maggie's—," I shot him a questioning look. "That's what I call Magnus," he explained. I nodded and motioned for him to continue. "This weekend, I was leaving _Magnus's_ room, and I saw you hunched in a ball on the floor, crying. Why?" My green gaze dropped to my fingertips, which were tracing the lacy designs of the countertop. I didn't know if I wanted to tell him, but he had been so honest with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jace ushering Kaelie out the front door, her blond hair and makeup done perfectly. She must have spent the night.

"I'll tell you later," I said, my eyes never leaving Jace. Alec followed my gaze, then nodded knowingly. I shoved my fork into my pancakes and took a big bite, chewing quietly as Jace rummaged through the cabinets. When he emerged with a chocolate bar, I swallowed, the sad lump in my throat making it a challenge. "Good morning, Jace," I managed to choke out. He shoved his candy bar in his mouth and ignored me. I set my fork down with a clang and dumped my pancakes into the trash. I dropped my dishes into the sink with a clatter and stormed out of the room, calling, "Goodbye, Alec," over my shoulder.

Jace was such a jerk sometimes, and I couldn't stand it. All I wanted was the little blonde boy that used to give me under ducks on the swings and sing the itsy bitsy spider with me when we were bored. I stomped to the elevator, climbing in with most of the other boys on my floor. "Hey," I said to Simon when he got on the elevator.

"Clary!" he greeted smiling. He gave me a big hug, lifting me slightly off the ground. When he put me back down, I gave him an awkward look. "What?" he complained.

"Nothing…" I began, "you just seem, um, happy today." He laughed quietly, slipping the ringing phone out of his pocket and answering it. "Hey, babe." Babe? I almost choked with laughter. "Um, sure Izzy, I would love to come over for dinner on Friday." He was silent for a minute. "Oh, Alec, Jace, and Clary are coming too?" He looked at me, and I gave him the I-didn't-even-know look. He shrugged and continued with his conversation. I leaned against the side wall of the elevator, folding my arms across my chest. The elevator finally dinged on the school floor, and I flew to my locker, realizing the first bell was ringing. I twisted the lock expertly and tugged it open, grabbing my biology book and folder. I slammed it and sprinted down the hallway to the classroom, sliding into my seat next to Paul just as the late bell rang.

"Hey, babe," he greeted smirking. I scoffed and scooted as far away from him as possible. With a broken nose, swollen eye, and concussion, he still believed that I like him. This kid could probably be registered as a legal psycho. The teacher began diving into the world of atoms that make up the simple sugars, like glucose and fructose. I listened intently determined to ace the quiz he was sure to hand out at the end of the hour. Like clockwork, he handed out a pop quiz ten minutes before the block was over. My pencil scratched noisily across the paper as I scrawled out the answers that I surprisingly knew. I could feel Paul's eyes grazing over my paper when his pencil stopped moving. I put my arm over it and rested my head on it to block his view. "That's a very seductive pose," he whispered in my ear, his fingers stroking my cheek. I kicked his shin underneath the table, and he yelped in surprise. I smiled and walked to the front of the room to hand my paper in.

"Thanks, Clary," Mr. Smith said, "you are free to go now." I smiled and nodded a thanks, exiting the room as quickly as I could, determined to get away from Paul. I went into the girls bathroom across the hall, which was always empty since the school was all boys and the girl teachers had their own bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, then scrubbed my cheek roughly, trying to remove any trace of Paul's fingertips. I felt my phone buzz, and I tugged it out of my pocket. I smiled as I read the text from Jonathon.

**Hey, baby sister! We are leaving NYC right now ): Dad is really antsy about getting out of here. I would have called, but I know you're in school and everything, so…Love you! You better be coming home soon! Thanksgiving at the latest. I mean it, Clary. Call me when you can.**

I dialed his number as quickly as my fingers would allow, placing the phone to my ear. "Hello?" his voice answered.

"Jon! Don't go yet! I need to see you before you leave!" I was on the verge of tears now, realizing that I'd only seen him once since he'd been in New York.

"Can't, Clary. You know how dad gets," he sounded agonized. Dad must have been giving him a hard time.

"Put him on," I commanded, determined to get them to stay a little longer.

"Clary…" he protested.

"Now, Jon." I heard the phone shift hands.

"Hello?" asked my father.

"Daddy," I pleaded, making it sound as if I had been crying, which I was now, "you guys need to stay longer! I didn't get to see you enough!"

"Clare Bear, you know we can't do that. Our tickets are for right now."

"Oh dad, please," I said rolling my eyes, "I know you always get open ended tickets because you like to choose when to leave." I heard my father sigh and knew I was winning.

"Clary…" he protested as weakly as Jonathon had. I didn't give him a chance to finish.

"Thanks, Daddy! I love you! I'll see you after practice!" I hung up the phone. My phone immediately vibrated.

**You have GOT to teach me how to do that.** It was from Jon. I smiled, and texted back that it was a secret. He texted a sad face, telling me that they were headed back to the hotel and relaying a message from Maia that said that we were definitely going shopping tomorrow after school, since Prescott didn't believe in practices on Wednesdays. I heard the bell ring, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket, walking to my locker, wiping the tears from my face. I was exuberant now, that it seemed silly I had been crying moments ago. This energy lasted me through Phys. Ed and my computer studies class. The time seemed to fly by. I practically skipped back to my locker from across the school. Alec was at his locker, when I approached.

"Hey," I said, as I spun the lock. He nodded in my direction. I immediately understood why he didn't say anything about his earlier question. Jace approached, opening his locker quickly, since he had jammed a pencil in the lock to hold it open. I grabbed my Spanish stuff and followed a quickly walking Jace to Spanish, not completely looking forward to sharing air with him. I dropped into my seat next to him, quickly flipping through my folder and finding my assignment from yesterday.

"Buenos días, clase," the teacher greeted. A few mumbled good mornings were returned to her, but the smile remained plastered on her face. Señora Martinez was seriously crazy. "Hoy, vamos a hablar con nuestros socios." _(Today, we are going to talk with our partners.)_ I groaned. I forgot that Tuesdays had been dubbed Talking Tuesdays because she always made the students carry on conversations with their partners. My partner was Jace, and I hadn't carried on a conversation with him for a few days. The teacher plopped down in her desk chair and began typing speedily on the keyboard. I turned my torso toward Jace, who's golden eyes remained focused at the front of the room.

"…Hola," I said, with the slightest bit of hesitation.

"…Hola," he replied.

"¿Cómo está usted?" I asked quietly. Jace's mouth was in a thin line.

"¿Por qué no le preguntas a Paul?" His voice was angry.

"Why don't I go ask Paul? Why would I ask Paul?"

"Spanish, you two," the teacher reprimanded. I apologized.

"Tú, evidentemente, como chupar la cara de Paul. Asi es que, obviamente, tú te preocupas más por su bienestar más que el mío." I silently translated his sentence. _You__obviously__like sucking__Paul__'s face. __So,__obviously,__you care__more for__his welfare__more__than mine. _"That's right, I **saw** you in the locker room," he whispered, so the teacher couldn't hear him using English.

"¡No me gusta a Paul!" I told him, glaring. He didn't answer, so we sat in silence for a few minutes. Under my breath I growled, "If you could pull Kaelie's tongue out of your mouth long enough to keep a full conversation, you would know what really happened, but I don't converse willfully with people that like to associate themselves with prostitutes." I heard him stuttering beside me. "I also prefer not to chat with people that kiss other girls while they have _girlfriends_!" My face was red hot with anger.

"Kaelie **wasn't** my girlfriend."

"Oh, then you must rebound quickly," I retorted sarcastically, my normally clear vision spotted with red. That shut him up effectively, and we spent the rest of the class in an uncomfortable silence. I watched the seconds tick by on the clock, wanting nothing more than to leave school and go home. My wish was granted when the bell rang and class was dismissed. My distance in algebra and job skills persuaded the teachers to leave me alone and not call on me. The classes passed quickly also, and now all I had to do was get through practice. I trekked to my locker, grabbing Alec's wrist and tugging him into a secluded corner.

He looked confused. "I'm going to answer your question from earlier." I explained. He nodded, and I took a deep breath. "Paul, Paul had tried to force himself on me in the locker room." Alec's breathing stopped and his eyes got big. "Don't, please, don't freak out. He wasn't successful." He let out a slow breath, and I waited patiently for him to talk.

He mumbled something quickly. It was something along the lines of, "I'…" I shook my head quickly.

"Don't do anything please. It's over and done. I took care of it." The pieces in Alec's head clicked.

"You?" I nodded, "The broken nose, the concussion—it was all…"

"Me," I finished quietly. Alec's blue eyes looked shocked. "Um, we need to get to practice," I said pointing as the team filed into the elevator.

"Um, yeah," he agreed, shifting around me and striding toward the elevator. I wasn't sure I liked the fact that Alec knew, but it was nice that I didn't have to hold it all in. I hopped into the elevator with the team, receiving a round of pats and good jobs about last night's game. One pat lasted a little too long for comfort and it was obviously from Paul that was placed perfectly on the small of my back. I ignored it though, trying to joke and laugh with my teammates as the elevator rose levels. I hurried away from Paul when it dinged, rushing to my lonely locker room and yanking my basketball clothes on.

"Stupid Jace," I muttered. "Stupid Paul. Stupid Kaelie." I don't know why I had all this anger welled up in me suddenly, but I knew that I was going to channel it all onto the court. I pushed through the locker room door and met with the team in center court. The coach was gone again, like usual, so it was just us players. We settled into a scrimmage right away, and for some reason, they had me sitting on the sidelines. I sat on the bench and tapped my feet impatiently, already waiting for someone to tire. I felt a nudge from beside me. I looked to my right out of the corner of my eyes. It was one of my teammates that still played junior varsity. He had stringy black hair and malicious black eyes.

"Hey, Sebastian…" I greeted, my voice dropping off at the end. Sebastian Verlac had been trying really hard to talk to me and because of my experiences with boys at Prescott, I had been avoiding him.

"Hey, Clary!" he said cheerfully. "I can't believe they have you sitting. You're awesome."

"Um…thanks," I replied as sincerely as I could, but with that hint of I-don't-feel-like-talking tone in my voice. He didn't get the hint.

"I mean, that three was awesome! And then you had a bunch of steals before that—"

"Clary, in." I hopped up at the sound of one of my teammates jogging off the court and calling me in. It was Rafael, his face red with exertion.

"You hurt, Ralf?" I asked, noticing he was babying his ankle. He shook his head quickly and shooed me onto the court before I could say anything else.

"I was on Jace!" he called after me. I locked eyes with the golden angel, but ducked my face to hide my flush. It wasn't fair that someone that hurt me could still send butterflies whirling through my stomach.

"Come on, Blondie, show me what you've got," I taunted, watching his steady dribble. He snorted without humor, and I could instantly tell he was going to drive left. I stole the ball, flying past him down the court and easily laying the ball off the backboard a layup. The net made a satisfying swoosh as the ball fell through, bouncing down against the floor. Jace didn't say anything, just picked up the ball and hustled down the court, filling the lane after dishing it to Paul. Jace posted me up, wrapping his arm around me and holding me in position behind him. My heart was thudding in my ears as I realized he was practically holding me. Paul gave him the ball, and Jace put it through the hoop.

"Come on, Ginger," he said, seriously. "You got more game than that." I rolled my eyes and passed the ball up the court, flying by Jace and receiving the ball in the lane.

"Sorry," I told him, pouting, "I thought you were faster than that." I turned on my heel and began playing again, settling into a more normal pattern with my team, rather than one-on-one with Jace. I was drenched with sweat by the time we were shuffling to the showers. I felt someone grab my shoulder. I turned around slowly, seeing Sebastian behind me. "I, I got to go…shower." I weakly pointed at the door.

"Hang on. This will just take a minute." I tossed a longing look at the shower door.

"What?"

He began to play with his fingers. "Will you go out with me Saturday night?" he asked, his eyes hopeful. Dang. How could I let him down easy? Think Clary, think.

"Sebastian, I'd love to…"

"I'm sensing a but," he said cutting me off.

"_But_ I am going out with my friends that night. Maybe another time?"

"Oh, okay," he said, walking away dejectedly. I wanted to slap myself. When had I become so mean? I didn't look back over my shoulder as I shoved my way into the locker room, afraid I might go ask him out. I showered slowly, allowing the water to run suds-free before I wrapped myself into my fluffy towel. I pulled on my clothes, brushed my hair, and headed to the elevator. I arrived in my room and was immediately overcome by the smell of spaghetti.

"Mm, who's cooking?" I asked, dropping my bags in the living room.

"Guilty!" Alec said, licking the tip of his finger. I glanced at the clock, realizing it had taken me over an hour and a half to get back to my room.

"Where you been, Clary?" Jace asked my breezing into the room. "Screwing, Montgomery?" Bile rose in my throat at the mention of Paul's name. I realized Jace hadn't called me Morgen in a while. I crossed the room to Alec and plopped down in on a stool.

"I'm not one to kiss and tell," I mumbled sarcastically. Jace's mouth opened, but it was Alec to the rescue! Sliding steaming plates of spaghetti in front of us. I smiled at him and gave him a thanks. He nodded in recognition and sat down with his own plate, diving heartily into the noodles. I picked around the plate, listening to Jace and Alec slurp noodles. Halfway through dinner, my phone vibrated. Maia had texted me.

**Shopping. You, me. Tomorrow **

I quickly typed back, my heart sinking.

**But…my dad…**

Less than ten seconds later, my phone was already buzzing.

**Don't worry. Mr. Valentine already called you in sick. Nobody does the puppy dog eyes like me!**

I snorted, earning awkward stares from Alec and Jace. I punched a few keys on my phone and returned to eating my dinner.

**Puppy dog eyes? Yours look more like werewolf eyes! :P**

Maia quickly replied.

**Up yours**.

I smiled, not bothering to text back. Maia knew that I randomly dropped texting conversations all the time. I finished my plate of spaghetti slower than the boys than retreated to my room, flipping open my sketchbook and spreading out my pencils on my comforter. I ran my fingers across the smooth, clean paper, waiting for inspiration to strike. And it did. In the form of an angel, arms lifted to the heavens, his body glowing vibrantly among the skies. I stopped before detailing the face, knowing the blond boy that showed up in there would ruin the image. I set my unfinished drawing down on my bedside table and stood up, rustling through my dresser drawers and pulling out my pajamas. I pulled them on and slid under the covers, snuggling up to my pillow and drifting off into a light sleep.

I woke up sweating; my hair matted and skin sticking uncomfortably to the sheets. I was panting heavily and trying to rapidly blink away the gruesome images playing behind my eyes. When I had calmed, I couldn't recall my nightmare. I just knew that I didn't want to ever dream that again. I padded barefoot into the kitchen, wearing my camisole and soffe shorts. I opened the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk, pouring a glass and sitting on the couch, turning on the television. The evening news was playing.

The anchorwoman's face was grave as she read the breaking news from her printed sheets. "This just in, family gone missing from hotel room after visiting daughter at boarding school. They had last been spotted entering the hotel room late last night. Hotel managers claim they heard screaming and fighting coming from their room. They are missing today. Force is suspected. And now here's Tom Avery on location."

I gulped down the last of my milk, preparing to turn off the television, when a few words stopped me cold. "This is where the Morgenstern family was last seen, before the gunshots and screaming." My dream came back. A gunman dressed in black pressed a pistol to my mother's throat, commanding my father, brother, and Maia to get into the van. He shot Maia in the arm when she didn't move fast enough. I gasped loudly. "…Valentine, Jocelyn, and Jonathon Morgenstern, and Maia Roberts were visiting Valentine and Jocelyn's daughter. Her name is not being released due to security issues…" I tossed my face into the couch and screamed. My mom, my dad, my brother, and Maia were missing, and here I was, at Prescott, useless. I looked around the room, wondering where I would go, wondering what I would do. Alec and Jace groggily entered the room, complaining that it was five in the morning. I looked at the TV just as a sketching of the man leaving the hotel flashed on the screen. Jace and I locked eyes for a moment, and I suppressed a scream. The picture was a crudely drawn image of Stephen Herondale, Jace's dead father.

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><p><em>So so so? Haha there's a poll on my page...be sure to check it out and vote! Oh and tell me if you like the curious turn of events (I swear, it wasn't planned) but I kinda like it heh heh.<em>


	14. Chapter 13

_Whoot, whoot! Finally got time to update. As per results of my recent poll, Shadowhunting will be incorporated into the story! Yay! My story is finally coming together, bit by bit. Hope you like. (Side note: Saw New Year's Eve tonight…LOVE LOVE LOVE!) hehe Enjoy! (:_

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><p>You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. Jace's golden gaze eyed me up and down as I stared intently at the now blackened screen. Alec stood, bracing himself with the back of the sofa, remote still poised in his hand from when he turned the television off on me. I blinked quickly, frozen in shock. The milk glass was subject to my tightening grip, threatening to crack any second. Jace noticed this first, carefully unwrapping my delicate fingers from around the cup. Alec's steady breathing was the only thing that kept me sane as thought jumbled in my head, running away as if the apocalypse had begun. I felt Jace's weight shake the couch as he sat down carefully beside me. I didn't realize I was crying silently until Jace wiped my tears away with one calloused thumb. His arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders, and I flinched away from his touch. I didn't look up at his golden eyes, knowing that I had hurt him. "Clary," he began, breaking the silence of the room. I ran my fingers over the white couch cushions, trying frantically to calm my heart rate. "It's all going to end up okay." My fingers froze where they had been tracing patterns into the leather.<p>

My head swiveled his direction so quickly that his molten tawny eyes widened in shock. I narrowed my emerald ones and glared at him, my gaze boring down on his face. His mouth was parted slightly, as if he was going to say something, but I quickly interrupted his train of thought. "No, Jace, it's not 'all going to be okay.'" I was seething, breathing heavily, my words dripping with anger and thick with annoyance. "I've been through fire this week," I spitted through gritted teeth, "and you weren't there to help me, or comfort me. Come to think of it, you weren't there at all!" Alec's concentrated and tight expression morphed to bemused, watching Jace flinch away from my finger that was poking him square in the chest. I felt ready to explode. If this had been a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of my ears like lava erupting from a volcano, but unfortunately, this was real life, and the events of the past few moments had actually happened. Jace's big hand ran through his disheveled hair, making it even messier. Anger was taking root in my chest, unfolding and expanding.

"Clary—" I cut him off with a swift motion of my hand. "Shut up, Jace. You don't even know what happened," I retorted, catching him off guard with my snappy tone. If you could stop sucking Kaelie's face and open your eyes a little, you may possibly not be in the dark anymore, but no, Jace Herondale, my best friend since we were three, decides that his girlfriend is more important than his best friend's attempted molestation." Jace blinked quickly, his long eyelashes grazing his cheeks with every open and close.

"At-attempted—"

"Yes, Jace. In the locker room, when you 'saw me making out with Paul,'" I inserted air quotes around the Paul part, "I was actually being forced." His mouth parted in horror. "That's right. After, I found out about you and Kaelie, I ran to the gym, determined to put my anger out on an inanimate object rather than crush Kaelie's big nose into her skull. Paul must have followed me, and he dragged me into the locker room by my hair. My hair! And all this time you've been running around with Kaelie because you thought I did something with Paul. News flash: I gave Paul the broken nose, swollen eye, and concussion, but you, my friend, gave me something a whole lot worse. You gave me a broken heart." I crossed my arms, leaning back into the couch for support, exhaling the breath I had been holding through my whole rant. Jace's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it. I smoothed my tank top over my stomach, distracting myself from the fire continuing to burn inside my core. Not a fire of anger, though. I would have much preferred a fire of anger, something easier to handle. This, this fire was something stronger, something that taunted me. It was a fire of passion. All the love I felt towards Jace wadded up into one big burning ball of affection and lust. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to hone in on the angry, trying desperately to yank it back to me and cling to the tiny thread that remained, so that I did not have to give into the fire.

"Clary, I'm sorry—," he apologized moments later, but I ignored it.

"Save it, Jace. I'm obviously not in the mood nor have the time for your halfhearted apologizes. Right now, I need to focus on finding my family, the only ones that love me right now, the only ones that would care about what I have gone through this week." Another tear slipped from my green eye and rolled down my cheek, leaving behind a salty trail. It splattered against my bare leg, leaving a glistening dot behind. I wiped my face harshly, angered that I was so weak. Jace's blazing amber eyes were full of remorse, but I turned away, focusing instead on Alec's icy blues.

"Any ideas, Alec?" I asked, hoping for a yes, a nod, anything positive. He shook his head, and I sighed, wringing my hands and biting my lip. I closed my lids, my eyes twitching in the black-red darkness, watching the dream play over and over again in my mind, trying to make connections.

"Alec, you know what this is about. I know you're thinking what I'm thinking," Jace broke the silence, countering Alec with his eyes. "I know that you are lying." Alec eyed his brother carefully, knowing he'd been caught. Clary was in awe of their brotherly connection. It was as if they were real brothers.

"I know," he agreed. "I just, just don't want to believe it." Alec stepped away from the sofa, pulling a sleek back cell phone from the pocket of his pajama pants. He punched a few buttons and began raising the phone to his ear. Jace tapped his forefinger against his chin, elbows rested on his knees, contemplating something.

"Alec," Jace said suddenly, stopping Alec with the phone halfway to his ear, "I know our next move." Jace's golden gaze switched from his brother, to me, his eyes staring at me, unwavering. My gaze faltered, until I couldn't take the intimacy anymore. I dropped my gaze to my hands and played with my fingers. "We need to leave Prescott, Morgen." I sucked in a quick breath, and it got stuck in my throat. The way he said my nickname was so familiar, so comforting, that I looked at him again, my eyes holding his. "We have to go back to your house in Ohio." He glanced at Alec, who only nodded. "There's…there's something we need there." Alec lifted the phone the rest of the way to his ear, having dialed a memorized number already, while I looked at Jace with a questioning expression. He dropped his lips to my ear, "I promise, I will explain later," he whispered, his breath tickling the side of my face.

"Hey, Pam. Yeah, it's Alec. Uh-huh," he smiled, his voice friendly as he talked into the phone. "Yeah, we need two tickets to Ohio." _Two?_ Jace mouthed. Alec waved him off, his expression cross, and listened to the phone for a moment. "Cleveland." More silence. "Yup, thanks Pam." He clicked off, turning to face Jace. "I'm not going. I have to stay here and cover for you two." Jace looked feverishly at me, then back to Alec.

"What if he sent—" another glance at me, "—you-know-what's there." Alec half smiled at his foster brother, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was more of a pitying smile, probably meant in my direction.

"Jace, I know you can handle it." Jace glowered at him, but turned to me, his eyes trying to plead with me to forgive him. In the heat of the moment, I almost did, but then reality came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks, and I crossed my arms, pressing my lips into a thin line to prevent the words of forgiveness that threatened to roll off my tongue. I turned my face away from him, gazing longingly out the window, seeing the dim glow of streetlamps on the streets below.

Jace recovered quickly. "When do we leave?" Alec glanced at his cell phone.

"Um, now, go pack!" Alec shooed Jace and I out of the room to our own bedrooms. I heard the shuffling of feet as Jace gathered his things. I had planned to do the same, but my feet were cemented into the floor, rooting me to the spot where II stood in the middle of the room, in shock. What was going on? Twenty minutes ago, I was drinking milk on the couch, and now, now I was going back to Ohio with my least favorite friend. I sank to my knees on the wooden floor, putting my face in my hands, trying desperately to grasp the situation, trying my hardest to comprehend what was happening.

"Clary, you ready?" Jace asked, breathless as he entered my room. I heard a thud as his duffle bag dropped to the floor. "Oh, Clary," he soothed gently. I hadn't realized I had been crying until he was wiping the tears from my face. I swatted his hands out of the way, collecting myself. Jace sighed, but said nothing. He bustled around the room, gathering my things into my duffle he had found on the floor. Jace had watched me pack so many times back in Ohio, that he practically knew my favorite things. I watched him grab my favorite Cleveland Browns sweatshirt and favorite worn, paint-splattered pair of jeans. He held them silently out to me, and I pulled them on, watching him to continue swiping things from around the room and efficiently, but neatly, toss them into my bag. I ran a finger through my curls, tugging a ponytail from my wrist and catching the wild tendrils into a slightly contained bun on the top of my head.

Jace left my bedroom, each hand clutching a bag, with me in tow. Alec handed us some airplane tickets he had printed off online and ushered us to the lobby. I had finally come back to earth. The lobby was practically empty. The desk attendant snoozed on the countertop, snoring lightly, his white hair covering his face. The doorman was absent, due to the early hour of the day. Alec held the door for me as Jace followed me through carrying the bags. I looked back at Jace, his golden hair covering his melted golden eyes. He was dressed in tight black leather clothes, looking as if he were heading into a fight. His angular jaw was taut, seriousness covering his features. He saw me eyeing him and smiled slightly, passing by me to toss the bags into his car. He tugged open the door for me and walked around to the driver's side. I waved at Alec, smiling weakly. Jace looked over at me. "You ready?" he asked, pulling out of the parking lot. I snorted feebly.

"Was I ready for any of this?" I countered my voice small. I was shaking all over with nervousness. Jace's fingers wrapped around mine. The slight touch sent electrical shocks sparking up and down my arms, lacing through my fingers, and jumpstarting my brain. I smoothly slipped my hand out of his, and I heard him sigh deeply, his hand retreating dejectedly to his side. "Jace, whether you want to accept it or not, you hurt me. You hurt me badly, and I can't even think straight right now, and there's so much on my mind, and—"

"Hey, it's okay. I get it." He tossed me a sad glance and paused for a moment. "There really never was anything between me and Kaelie." My heart thudded heavily in my chest, filling the silent void that followed his proclamation. I blinked rapidly, my eyelashes grazing my freckled cheeks, dusting away the tears. I fingered the hem of my Brown's sweatshirt. Air whooshed through my ears as my confidence began growing. A flower of anger blossomed in my chest.

"Then why did you flounce around with her like you two were in love?" My voice was unexpectedly sharp, but Jace chuckled lowly. The flower flourished, changing into a full-blown tree. I felt the blood rush to my face, turning me an angry shade of red. "What's. So. Funny?" I asked, making each word its own sentence. Jace stopped laughing.

"No, it's just that," he paused. "Clary, I saw you with Paul, and I got jealous. I was angry and heartbroken, and Kaelie was there when I got back. She struck when I was vulnerable. It's my fault for being so weak. It's my fault. Everything that has happened is my fault." This was the Jace I used to know, the Jace that I'd known when we were young, the open, the honest, the Jace that was only for my viewing. I smiled to myself, watching the buildings pass by through the window of the car, watching miles and miles of road disappear underneath the hood of Jace's fancy car.

I fell asleep to the steady hum of the engine, waking up suddenly when Jace turned a corner into a small airport. He parked the car and tossed the keys to a valet dressed in green. The valet with black hair and tan eyes smiled and greeted Jace by name. "Hey, Josh," he replied, snatching the bags from the car and tossing them over his shoulder. He walked up the short path to the door, stopping once he noticed I was still standing where the car had been. He beckoned me to follow, and I shied away, fearful of what was to happen next. He came back to me and looped his arm through mine, leading me through the halls and rooms of the empty airport. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard in the airport was the echo of our shuffling feet and huff of our exhaled breaths.

Then, the silence was ruined. "Jace!" we heard a call from behind us. "Jace," Kaelie whined, "Alec told me this would be where I would find you. What is the slut doing here?" Jace's phone vibrated, and he checked it, ignoring Kaelie for a minute.

"Aw, look at that, Jace, Kaelie doesn't even know why she's here," I retorted. Kaelie blinked for a moment, wondering how her insult had been turned around back at her as Jace stifled a chuckle. Kaelie's dreary and dull blue eyes bore down on me, in a look that tried to be menacing.

"Jace, tell her to go so we can have some fun," she said in what was supposed to be a seductive voice, reaching out a finger to trail her nail down the side of his cheek. The high pitch just made her sound desperate.

"Sure, Kaelie," he said to my horror. "Can I just see your key to my room, please?" She smiled blatantly in my direction, undoubtedly thinking that she was winning. She pulled her wallet out of her Prada bag and handed the key over, smirking triumphantly all the while. "Thanks," Jace muttered, snapping the card and handing the broken pieces back to her. "Now, go away, and I never, I mean ever, want to hear your agonizingly high-pitched voice again." Kaelie blinked a few times.

"B-but, we did so much together," her eyes welled up with tears, and her lower lip jutted out a little bit.

"Kissing, Kaelie. We kissed a few times." He gave her an awkward look, "Then you'd tell me about your dog's problems and discuss her therapy sessions with me." Turning on his heal, He tugged me along at a fast pace, too fast that Kaelie's high heel-clad feet couldn't keep up.

We hightailed it all the way to our terminal, checking over our shoulders every so often to see that Kaelie hadn't followed us. "Hey, Pam," he said to a lady with wiry brown hair and smudged red lipstick. She stood behind a desk in the terminal, her fingers poised over the keypad of a laptop. She smiled, admiring Jace.

"Hi, Jace," she giggled. Yes, a thirty-year-old lady giggled. Jace handed her the tickets and pulled me down a hallway, pushing open the door with a sign that said "EXIT" at the end. I looked at him, but he only shrugged, his gold eyes focused straight ahead. The door opened to a set of stairs that led down to the landing strip. I stumbled on the stairs, dizzy from the string of events that had changed my life in such a short amount of time. Jace's hand tightened at my elbow, leading me carefully down the stairs. I adverted my eyes, taking in the sight. The sun hadn't even broken the horizon yet, the darkness broken by the lights hanging over the runway. A sleek black Jet was in the middle, hatch open with stairs out, waiting for passengers to ascend. The pilot waited at the stairs, tipping his hat and greeting Jace as he pulled me up the stairs.

"Jace," I whispered loudly, "a private jet? Couldn't we have flown coach?" He laughed once.

"This was the fastest way to get to where we were going. Plus, it's your jet." He laughed again as my mouth opened in shock.

"M-my jet?" I stuttered, sitting down on the black leather chaise lounge inside the plane. There was marble flooring and a wet bar and a flat screen television filling the interior. Jace sat on the couch opposite me, upholstered in matching leather.

"Well, your father's actually," he corrected himself, relaxing into the backrest. "He was once, still is," he revised, "a very rich and powerful man." I blinked, looking around. My father, the lawyer? My father, the cheapest man with the dated home and children dressed in inexpensive clothing? That father owned a jet worth more than my entire house, all inclusive? I rubbed my hands over my face.

"How?" I asked breathless. Jace's golden eyes shut, and he clasped his hands behind his neck.

"Your father and mother once ruled over all of Alicante, particularly a city called Idris." I shook my head. I had studied and studied world maps and geographical things for years, as a result from a push from my father, but I had never heard of a city called Idris.

"Not possible," I said, crossing my arms defiantly. Jace smiled at me, and before I could stop him, he had tugged off his shirt, revealing his childhood pain, the mess of scars covering his flawless chest and arms. "Jace…" I mumbled, in awe of the sight.

"No, Clary," he said. "Look past all the scars, past the years of cruelty." I squinted my eyes, but shook my head. I couldn't see anything. "Come on, Clary. Do what you do when you stare at your mother's paintings. Peel me back layer by layer, look for the secrets hidden beneath the scars and bruises." I did, imagining wiping off his scars, removing the bruises, removing brush stroke by beautiful brush stroke, wiping away the oil paints and watercolors.. Then I saw them.

"Swirly, silvery, intricate patterns woven into your skin," I whispered mostly to myself, but I knew he'd heard. Instantly, Jace crossed the plane and took my face in his hands.

"Clary," he said my name quietly, as if he were wondering if I wanted him to say it at all, "Idris is the city of Shadowhunters."

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><p><em>(: Kaelie, gone, done! Good riddance (: hehe hope you liked, review to inspire me! Haha ooh Christmas…one week! Yeah buddy! <em>


	15. Chapter 14

_Haha from a review I got…Yes, I do play basketball! Varsity level baby! (: hehe and here's an update…I hope you like the Shadowhunting stuff because I do! (: yes two updates in two days, just because I probably won't have an update next week due to Christmas and Christmas Vacation….BTW don't own any of the lyrics or songs in my story. They belong to Lifehouse, Seether, and Daniel Powter. And now for the story:_

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><p>I stared at Jace's face inches from mine, his warm hands perfectly molded to the curve of my face, his golden eyes staring intensely into mine, his bare chest radiating heat. I opened my mouth, but then closed it again, uncertain of where to begin. My dad, Valentine, owned a jet. My mother and my father had ruled over this ancient city that was not on normal maps, and yet I didn't even know about it. I began replaying my childhood in my mind, trying to find bits and pieces of what my parents had told me about their pasts. Nothing, I came up with nothing. No yearbook pictures, no reunions, no toys, no clothes—there was nothing from my parents' lives before Jon and I that told this story, the secrets spilling from Jace's mouth. The floor shook beneath me as the airplane began moving. Jace wobbled a little, then retreated to the couch on the other side of the plane, his eyes never leaving my face. "S-shadowhunters?" I asked breathlessly. Jace nodded solemnly, waiting for me to speak more than one forced word. The airplane steadied as it glided through the air, and an announcement sounded over the PA system that we were allowed to move about the cabin. Jace crossed back over to me, plopping down lazily on the floor, not in the least bit bothered by the unreal things he was talking about.<p>

"Shadowhunters," he began, realizing that I wasn't going to speak for awhile, "are Nephilim, or offspring of angels. We fight demons, keeping humans safe, though most of them don't even know we exist."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, finding my voice. I held my hand up to halt him. "Demons?" Jace laughed once, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips, the corners tipping up unevenly.

"Demon, noun, an evil spirit; devil or fiend," he rattled off.

"I didn't want the dictionary entry, Jace." His smile grew a little bit.

"Okay, okay. Demons hurt humans, feed on their energies or their pain. We stop that." His eyes got sad for a moment. "When I told you my parents died in a car accident, I was lying. They died in a demon attack, or at least I though they did, but now, I'm not so sure." He played idly with something he had pulled out of his pocket, a metallic cylindrical tube. He caught me looking at it. "Seraph blade, used to kill demons." He whispered something to it, something that sounded like a name, _Ithuriel_, and in a flash of brilliant blue light, a blade came shooting out, reminding me of a light saber from Star Wars. Jace whispered a name to it again, _Ithuriel_, and it disappeared, leaving him to flip its encasing back and forth.

"Cool," I muttered shakily. Pulling the ponytail from my hair and letting it fall around my shoulders in tangled curls. We sat in silence for awhile, listening to the whoosh of air flying outside the airplane. "You said my parents ruled Idris?" Jace nodded.

"Your father was like, like the president, and that made you mother…the first lady. Then there was this thing called the Clave, sort of like advisors to the president?" He didn't seem so sure of his comparisons, but I sort of understood, having delved into history and civics classes in Ohio, my father encouraging me to learn as much of the subject as I was capable.

"Were, were they any good?" I shook my head, knowing that the question didn't come out correctly. "Were they good rulers?"

Jace sighed deeply. "At first, yes, but as years progressed, Valentine, your father, became hungry for power," he told me honestly. "Your mother, him, and your then year old brother fled Idris along with my father who had remained faithful to Valentine." He tugged at his blond locks. I wondered what his hair had ever done to him that it caused him to yank on the tendrils until they practically snapped off. "Look, there's so much to explain…it, it may take awhile." I looked around at the plane that was some thousands of feet into the air, then back at Jace.

"I'm not going anywhere." He sighed again, smiling sheepishly. He clasped his hands into his lap and opened his mouth, no sound coming out. He closed it again, rubbing his thumb and forefinger to his temples, as if trying to choose his words wisely.

"Well, they moved to Ohio, you and I were born, and then the life that you know happened." He was leaving a bunch out, and I could tell. I looked pointedly at him, telling him with my green eyes that I could tell when he was lying.

"So why wasn't I raised a Shadowhunter if my parents were the most powerful Shadowhunters."

"Clary…" Jace complained, not wanting to tell me.

"It's my life, Jace. I have a right to know." Jace mumbled something incoherently, but it sounded slightly like the word _women_. He once again tugged at his golden hair, and I waited, picking absentmindedly at a splash of dried paint on my jeans.

"Before Ohio, they went to New York, slaughtering demons left and right." He glanced nervously around the room. "What your mother didn't know was that Valentine had also been killing Shadowhunters, Shadowhunters that allied themselves with downworlders." I gave him an inquisitive stare. "Faeries, werewolves, vampires—all of them are downworlders." I nodded, motioning for him to continue. "Then they moved to Ohio, after Valentine was nearly captured in New York. Then I came along, and my father trained me gently. 'You're too easy on the boy,' I had heard your father say to mine one day. 'Never gonna be a good enough Shadowhunter.'" He ran a big hand over his face, pinching his cheeks and opening his mouth as it swiped over his face. "Your father…he forced my father to hand my training courses over to him." He stopped, remembering he forgot to add me into the story. "By this time, you were five years old, and your mother had decided that she didn't want you anywhere near the crazy world the rest of us lived in. She forced your father to allow you to live like a normal human." I nodded, still angered by my mother's decision to hide half of what I was from me. "Valentine trained Jonathon and I separately, differently too. Jon, Jon was his pride and joy, and I was just some child that he had to train."

He stopped for a moment, his eyes glazing over with memories of his childhood. "jace, you don't have to continue—"

"No, Clary, you're right. You deserve to know." He took a deep breath. "My father loved me, more than anything, and it pained him to watch Valentine trained me, but he believed it was what had to be done. We'd train late at night, in your basement. When we'd finish, I'd run out the door, wait for your father's bedroom light to turn on, and then crawl through your window." I scrunched my eyebrows together, making connections, gasping as realization hit me. "Clary, my father never beat me, or hurt me, or scarred me. It was your father. He claimed it was training, claimed it was protocol, but it wasn't. I'd sit there and wait for him to attack, unable to move because of the agonizing bindings he had chaining me to a wall. I was his experiment," Jace spat through gritted teeth. A horrifying image ran through my mind. Angelic Jace chained to a wall, yanking against the cuffs at his wrists and ankles, watching my father approach him with a seraph blade, his face twisted into a sick grin, his black eyes boring down on him with malice. I shook my head to rid myself of the images, tears pricking my eyes.

"Jace," I moaned sadly, "all those nights. You came back to _me_, the daughter of the man who caused your pain." Jace smiled with no happiness.

"Yeah, I guess I did." He shook his head, "Never thought of it that way before." I caught his eyes, looking into the pure gold. I saw no sadness in the molten pools of precious gold, no anger, no regret or vengeance, but acceptance, acceptance of the way he had been raised, of his life, or his family, of me.

"Why?" Jace's fingers stilled mine where my nails were scratching at the leather.

"Because how could I associate someone so beautiful, so pure, so happy and full of life with someone who destroys, someone who has a sick mind and gains pleasure from the torture of others." He squeezed my fingers and reached up from his position on the floor, wiping away a tear as it slipped down my cheek.

"Gosh, I'm such a girl," I said wiping my cheeks angrily, trying to remove the evidence of my weakness.

"Someone once told me that it's okay to cry," he quoted my words of comfort I had once said to him. I couldn't help but think that at that time I had been sympathizing with Jace over injuries his father had given him, never having thought that my father gave him the bruises and scars and wounds. I bawled, sliding over as Jace laid down on the chaise lounge beside me, wrapping his strong arms around me and cooing sweet nothings into my ear. I had long since lost any connection to the anger that had blazed inside of me before, giving way to the passionate fire tearing holes through my heart. My shoulders racked with silent sobs. Jace rubbed my back until I quieted; not saying a word to me after the tears had stopped, waiting for me to talk. I opened my mouth, but closed it as the plane began to shake. I looked out the window and watched the airplane tires bump the runway. "We're here," was all I said, unwrapping myself from Jace and standing up, keeping my distance from him, gaze cast at the floor. He didn't say anything, just grabbed our bags from the cabinet the pilot had put them in and heading to a sleek black car that was waiting for us outside the airplane. He threw the bags into the trunk and slid into the driver's seat.

I followed him, buckling my seatbelt on the passenger's side as he sped out of the airport, heading to small town Ohio, the place I had grown up, the place of my childhood, the place of so many secrets and lies. The silence must have bugged Jace as it did me, so he turned the radio up, and I listened intently to the song, focusing on the lyrics that seemed to be written about me.

_Where is the moment we needed the most?_

_You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost_

_They tell me your blue skies fade to gray_

_They tell me your passion's gone away_

_And I don't need no carryin' on_

Jace reached to turn the station, but I stopped him, wanting just to jam out to a sad song. I began belting out the lyrics with every bit of energy left inside me.

_You stand in the line just to hit a new low_

_You're faking a smile with the coffee to go_

_They tell me your life's been way off line_

_You're falling to pieces every time_

_And I don't need no carryin' on_.

I blinked, looking around at the familiar Ohio fields roll by, seeing the cattle grazing lazily in the morning sun, watching raindrops splatter against the windshield, only to be whipped off moments later by the windshield wipers.

_Cause you had a bad day, you're taking one down_

_You sing a sad song just to turn it around_

_You say you don't know, you tell me don't lie_

_You work on a smiled and you go for a ride._

I saw the old rickety welcome sign that greeted me back to my hometown. We passed it quickly, and I leaned my head back against the headrest, settling into the familiar sights and sounds of home.

_You had a bad day, the camera don't lie_

_You're coming back down and you really don't mind._

_You had a bad day_

_You had a bad day._

I laughed, and Jace gave me a sidelong glance, wondering what I could possibly find funny about this song. "Bad isn't a strong enough word to describe the last week and a half of my life." Jace's eyes remained on the road, but I saw his throat tighten with sadness, regret about the whole Kaelie thing.

_Well, you need a blue sky holiday_

_The point is they laugh at what you say._

_And I don't need no carryin' on_

The chorus played again, ringing prominently in my ears.

_Sometimes the system goes on the blink_

_And the whole thing turns out wrong_

_You might not make it back and you know_

_That you could be well oh that strong_

_And I'm not wrong_

Jace turned a corner, following the street to my home. I watched us pass his modern townhouse, or what used to be his home before he moved. Precisely six blocks from my home.

_So where was the passion when you needed it the most?_

_Oh you and I_

_You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost._

Jace cut the engine and the song cut off while the last few words were being sung. He reached into the pocket of his black fighting gear, Shadowhunter gear I presumed, and pulled out a long thin stick. It was silver and beautiful in its simplicity, I looked at it in awe as he traced a design on his arm, somewhat resembling an eye. I watched in curiosity as he reached out for my arm. I complied placing my forearm in his hand. He copied the design he had drawn on his arm, quickly and efficiently. I flinched away from the stinging sensation, but Jace's hand held my arm steady. "It will stop soon, Clary."

I sighed. "What are you doing?" He smiled a crooked grin, showing his brilliantly white teeth.

"Giving you your first rune." I looked at my arm, and at his, noticing that the pattern was similar to the swirling silvery lines covering Jace's skin. He let go of my arm and I pulled it back to my side. I figured that these marks, "runes," gave Shadowhunters certain abilities.

"What does it do?"

"It makes it so humans can't see us. Well, normal mundies. The glamour doesn't hide us from mundies with the Sight, downworlders or other Nephilim." We got out of the car, and I slid over the hood to his side, watching him cringe at the sight of someone sitting atop the hood of the Cadillac. I smiled what I hoped was a flirtatious smile.

"Jace?"

"Yeah?"

"Now that people can't see us, there's something I want to do…" I let my sentence drop off at the end. Jace leaned in closer, his golden eyes boring into mine. I puckered my lips slightly, waiting for his eyes to close. When they did, _crack_! I had slapped him across the face.

"What was that for?" he yelped, jumping backwards slightly. I smiled bitterly at him

"Now, we are even for the Kaelie thing, agreed?"

"Agreed," he confirmed rubbing his cheek, where a red mark in the shape of my hand was already forming. "That was quite a good slap for someone without training."

"And for someone with training, it was bad of you to let your guard down," I scolded. He walked up the sidewalk to my house, pulling out his stick thing again to trace a rune onto the doorknob. "Jace, what is that thing called?"

"A stele," he informed me, pushing the door open with ease. I watched the rune fade into the doorknob, memorizing its pattern for later reference, if I ever needed and unlocking rune. He stomped down the hallway, kicking open doors as he went, peeking into each room quickly, then moving onto the next room. I followed him.

"All these things have really weird names, and I have no idea how I am even going to remember all these—" my babbling was interrupted by Jace's shouting.

"Get back, Clary!" Jace yelled as he was knocked to the ground by a slimy black creature. There was a clanging noise as he hit, but I didn't see anything fall. My eyes were focused on the demon. It looked like a lizard with empty eye sockets and a tail made of bone. Its mouth was a perfect circle with thousands of razor sharp teeth swirling inside of it. All I could see was it pinning Jace down, and Jace struggling with the creature, trying desperately to get it off of him. I looked around franticly, trying to find something to use. Chair? No. Kitchen knife? No, too far away. Then, I noticed Jace's tube on the floor. A seraph blade. "Used to kill demons," Jace had said. I picked it up, my eyes never leaving the demon.

"Ithuriel," I whispered to it, watching the blade jolt to life. It was lighter than I had expected, fitting perfectly into my delicate hand. I launched myself at the demon, my instincts taking over. I stabbed and sliced until it was gone. Literally, gone. No blood was left behind, the body had disappeared. "Ithuriel," I whispered to the glowing sword, running over to help Jace to his feet.

"They go back to their own dimension after they die," he explained taking my outstretched hand and getting to his feet.

"Pretty good for a girl with no training, eh?" I asked. He snorted.

"You could have cut me up into pieces with the wild swings you were taking!"

"Wild swings? Admit it, Jace, I, Clarissa Morgenstern, Shadowhunter with no training, just saved your life, wielded my first seraph blade, and killed my first demon, all at once." Jace rolled his eyes, brushing off his fighting gear.

"Go make me a sandwich. I'm hungry." Following his previous action, I rolled my eyes, dusting off my own sweatshirt and jeans. I turned on my heel, glancing all around the house, doing a complete 360, the warm fuzzy feeling of being home washing over me. When I had nearly completed my spin, Jace's arms snaked around my waist and his warm mouth found mine. I gasped quietly into his mouth, but then closed my eyes, twisting my fingers into his beautiful, golden, and overly abused hair.

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><p><em>Did you like? If so…<em>

_Review? (:_


	16. Chapter 15

_Just got back from seeing Mission Impossible! Whoot whoot! (: Typed this up super duper quickly for you guys, so sorry for spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Hope you like it (: Happy Holidays, peeps!_

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><p>"Jace, you don't have to do this," I said, looking over my shoulder as he stood at the top of the stairs leading to the cold cellar basement. His golden eyes seemed to look straight through me, focused on much deeper and darker thoughts. A cool breeze blew up from the cellar and wafted through his golden tendrils, drawing them around his face in a movie-like fashion as he continued to stare completely lost within his own mind, not even able to communicate with me. I sighed, my hand wrapping tighter around the cool wooden railing as I walked slowly down the concrete stairs, the cold nipping my feet through my thin, white ankle socks. I slowly descended the stairs, careful not to mess up my footing and tumble into the unknown darkness. Though I had lived in this house for my entire sixteen years of life, I had never once gone into the basement, believing it was just a furnace room and a place where my mother stored her old art. How should I have known it was my father's own personal torture chamber to my best friend? I glanced up at Jace, the kitchen light behind him illuminating his angelic face, his features as perfect as if they had been carved from the most delicate and precious of all marbles. There was still a distant look in his eyes, his face tense with the memories this musty air brought back to him. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wrack my heart. I should have known, should have suspected, and should have helped. I forced my gaze forward, looking straight into the black abyss, wondering what I was getting myself into. I couldn't live in the world of "should have's." All I had was now. Who knew if I was going to be alive next week, tomorrow, or even in the next minute? I ran a hand through my hair, collecting my curls in my hand and placing them on my shoulder, planting my foot firmly on the floor as I reached what I thought was the last step, since the railing had ended. I blinked a couple of times, reaching out blindly for the light switch.<p>

"There's not one," came a familiar voice behind me, his long slender fingers kneading the skin at my hips, his hot breath tickling my ear and neck. I gasped, surprised as my breathing quickened as my heartbeat thudded faster and faster, just this close proximity had me almost going into a frenzy. The pressure from one of his hands disappeared as I heard him rustling around in his pockets for something. I felt a smooth, round object as Jace slid the rock-like thing he had found into my hand. "Witchlight," he whispered. I curled my fingers around it, watching as it glowed brilliantly, throwing shadows across the room, lighting up the basement and showing me everything—the world my family lived in, the world they had kept me from, and the world Jace's childhood was. Jace's hand froze on my hip, his fingers stiffening as my blood ran cold. The room was horrifyingly terrible. The warm glow of the stone did not dilute the menacing vibe of the concrete floor and walls. It did nothing to hide the smooth stone alter placed at the center of the room, spotted with red. I gagged, knowing it wasn't paint. Shackles sat in the center, where my father had placed them, waiting to be used, waiting to chain his next victim down while my father hovered over the poor soul, smiling sickly as he plotted ways to hurt them. I heard a whoosh as Jace fell to his knees, the memories had become too powerful for even him to bear, yet I couldn't look away, couldn't comfort him through touch or words, couldn't even see if he was alright. The room was too interesting to me. Interesting! I thought that my father's room of tortures was interesting! I shook away that thought, promising myself that I was nothing like he was. I turned my gaze to the walls, concrete cinderblock stacked upon cinderblock. Chains were bolted into the wall, which was worn and scratched from Jace trying to break free of his bindings. My hand flew to my mouth as an image flashed through my mind.

It was a memory. I was certain of it. It was fuzzy and seemed, well, almost dream-like, but the colors were too vibrant, too dead on to be anything but a memory. I must have been about six, judging how monsterous the walls seemed compared to my height. I had on my favorite Barbie nightgown. I could remember the feel of the cotton brushing above my knees, remember the biting cold tickling my skin, freezing my toes as I wandered through the dark and empty kitchen to the basement door. I heard voices, specifically my father's voice. "Daddy?" I remember saying, my voice high and childish. There was no response, but the voices continued conversing, speaking in muffled and muted tones. My plump and dimpled hand reached up, wrapping around the doorknob and twisting it. It had been hard for child me to open. I rattled to doorknob over and over, trying desperately to open it. "Daddy!" I called louder, wishing the door would just open. And it had, popping open magically at my plea. I remembered scampering down the stairs, tripping over my feet and rolling to a stop at the bottom. I remembered looking up from my position on the floor, watching my father leaning over a blond-haired boy that was laying on a table. Not laying, I corrected, chained. He writhed on the table as my father poked and prodded with needles and syringes and knives. He then cried out in pain, his head lifting up so that I could see his face over his feet, his bare and dirty feet. His eyes were squeezed shut at first, but they opened when my father stabbed something into his arm. They opened quickly, nearly blinding me with their brilliant gold light. "Daddy?" I had said, my voice rising into a question. Valentine's head had whipped in my direction, his dark eyes looking at me wildly, realizing what I had seen.

"Clary?" he asked, dropping the torture tool onto the ground where it clanged and rattled before settling to a stop. My father crossed over to me, grabbing me harshly by the forearms and yanking me around, turning me away from the boy, away from Jace. His white hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and his breathing was heavy with exertion. "Clary, what did you see?" I remembered being unable to speak, unable to tell him I had seen him hurt my friend, hurt Jace. My father cursed under his breath, grabbing my right arm and turning me to the side. He pulled his black stele, embroidered with golden swirls out of his pocket, turning my face to the side and squeezing my jaw so I was unable to turn. I watched in my peripherals as he focused, touching the tip to my neck and drawing a rune. I remembered the stinging sensation, remembered a tear falling silently to the ground. Then all I remembered was that I forgot. I had forgotten everything that had happened that night. Until now, I had had no recollection of ever entering this room, ever having seen what happened in my dark dingy basement. I touched my neck, the right side that was covered by my red curls, remembering the run that had been traced there. "Jace," I began breathlessly, toppling onto the floor next to him where his arms wrapped automatically around me, cradling me to his chest. I landed on top of the witchlight that was still clutched in my hand. The room went black, but I barely noticed, focusing mostly on connecting the dots of my past, filling in the missing pieces, only to be left with so many more. My past was like a child's puzzle, once whole and complete, forming the prettiest picture, but then one day, the puzzle box had been turned upside down, spilling out all the pieces that had formed the picture. They had been so hastily collected that some were missing, and now I was half a puzzle. This wasn't my first time in the basement, but I couldn't remember how many times I had been down here, how many times the rune had been traced on my neck. I pulled the witchlight from its uncomfortable position beneath me, the room illuminating once more. I looked around, noticing a cabinet shoved into the corner.

Reluctantly pulling myself from Jace's warm grasp, I walked over to it, facing the mahogany closet quietly, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was something in there that could help me form a small piece of my childhood. I grabbed the knob and tugged, yanking hard, rattling the doors, trying to open them and see what was waiting inside. It was locked. I glanced backwards, still seeing Jace on the floor, unmoving and statue-like. I strided to him, patting his pockets and removing his stele, hearing his small protest as he reached for it, but I batted away his hands sprinting to the cabinet and tracing the unlocking rune I had commited to memory before he could stop me. He slipped the stele out of my hands as the run sank into the wood, becoming one with the cabinet. Taking a deep breath, I popped the doors open, peering at it in wonder, seeing seraph blade upon seraph blade. There were whips with electrical currents dancing up and down the painful strings. There were black leather suits and knee high boots. There were witchlight stones lined up neatly on the shelves next to knives and syringes. There was a small box, white like crystal, shining like a diamond in Jace's witchlight stone. I reached for it in awe, sliding it carefully, hoping not to knock down the teetering seraph blades beside it. I pulled the lid off, and hooked it under the box. Inside, nestled in light green satin, was an opal stele. I plucked it from its protective encasing, liking the feel of its weight in my fingertips, hoping I never had to let it go. "Ah, now this is what we came for," he said, pulling a small piece of cardstock from the box. "Property of Jocelyn Fray," he read. Fray was my mother's maiden name. She'd had this before she'd married my father? I felt its smooth surface, holding it in my hand delicately, as if the mere wrong touch would break it. This was my mother's stele, my mother's, the freaking shadowhunter. I pushed a stray curl off of my face, while Jace, who was all action again, started tossing seraph blades and knives and whips and witchlights into a bag he had pulled from his back, each landing at the bottom with a clang or a thump I continued to stare at the stele, completely in awe of its excellence, its simplicity, its pure beauty. I felt myself smiling when I heard Jace's racket stop. His warm strong arms wrapped around my waist, and he rested his chin on my shoulder, sending shivers up and down my spine as he swayed us in unison. He pecked the side of my neck, the right side, just below my ear. I froze, feeling Jace stiffen behind me. "Clary?"

I unwrapped his arms from around me, not turning around to see the look of hurt cross his face as I stumbled up the stairs, flying through the house to my bedroom. The walls were painted orange, splattered with random colors of paint from the art projects that had always taken place in my room. Twinkling Christmas lights hung in strands across my ceiling, illuminating like vibrant white stars when plugged into the outlet behind my white sleigh bed that was decorated with a purple fleece blanket and my dolphin pillow pet. I ignored that, running straight to my white vanity, pressing my palms to the stained wood, accidentally knocking over sets of unopened perfumes, lotions, and makeup packages in the process. I blinked, standing in front of the mirror and pulling my hair away from my thin pale neck, looking at the green eyes of the reflection gazing steadily back at me. There was fear in the red-head's eyes, and I knew it was my fear of seeing just what I had expected. I squeezed my eyes shut, counting silently to three. I opened my eyes and heard Jace enter the room behind me. "What are you doing, Clary—" His voice broke of as I whirled around to face him, watching his eyes travel from my fearful eyes, down my freckled nose, to my lips, and finally to my exposed neck. His golden eyes widened, and then his blond eyebrows pulled together, forming a crease of concentration in his forehead as he tried to place the rune. Once again facing the mirror, my finger reached up and involuntarily traced the slivery lines, the intricate swirls and complex pattern. I wondered how I'd never seen it before, how it hadn't been seen by the so many people that saw me on a daily basis, how Jace hadn't noticed it. My head was spinning, confusing me more than I'd already been that day, having spent most of the morning in a haze after killing the demon and being sucked into one of Jace's seductive and enticing kisses. Jace pressed a cool palm to my clammy forehead, fanning his other hand across the small of my back and leading me to the bed, sitting me down gently. I continued to stare at the mirror, at the girl the size of a middle school girl with childish curls cascading over her shoulders and wide doe-like eyes clouded with bewilderment. Jace's slender fingers stroked the girl in the mirror's hair, leaning into her ear and whispering something. I couldn't feel the sensation, couldn't hear his murmurs. It was as if I wasn't even in my body anymore, as if someone plucked my soul from my petite frame and left me to wander the universe alone.

"Jace," I said, finding my voice, twisting around so I was facing him in the encircle of his arms, "you didn't give me my first rune." I spread my fingers across his arms, amazed by how big his biceps were compared to the frailness of my thin, delicate fingers.

"I'm sorry, Clary. I'd forgotten you were even there."

"So you remember them giving this to me?"

"Yeah, now I do," he confessed, his gaze dropping to my stomach. "I was so weak back then. He wouldn't even have had to touch you if I had yelled." So he was angry with himself for yelling while he was being tested, tortured?

"Jace, that doesn't even make sense."

"It does when you're me," was his explanation. He was silent for a moment, his fingers playing with the curls on the back of my neck. I sighed, angered by his guilt.

"Jace, why didn't you see it before?"

"The forget rune only appears when the person it is on remembers what they were supposed to forget." Now it made sense. "Most other runes just etch themselves into your skin right away, but the forget rune is different. It is formed so that it disappears, that way the person it is on doesn't even remember they received it." I rested my cheek against his chest, feeling the warm steady pulse of his heart. We sat like that for a moment before he pulled us both to a standing position.

"What are you doing, Jace?"

"What am I doing?" he looked at me, his eyebrows scrunched together with a playful look on his face. "I'm playing hard to get." Weapon bag in hand, he dropped one eyelid in a slow, smoldering wink, before turning on his heel and exiting the room, leaving me stunned and breathless in his wake.

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><p><em>A Christmas present from me to you...now for a Christmas present from you to me...review? Haha now, it's back to NYC! :D<em>


	17. Chapter 16

_Sort of a filler chapter...made it as cute as possible. Thanks Magnolia for the feedback! I did shorter paragraphs, more talking, and spacing so hopefully it's easier to follow! (: But remember, it's a filler...hoping the next chapter will have more action. This story will probably go to like twenty chapters or so. Oh btw, Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah! :D_

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><p>Jace and I spent the rest of that day in my living room, training me. "Clary, come on. This is the fourth time trying this," he said. "You hold the seraph blade like this." He showed me the proper way, an awkward position where the elbow was bent and the seraph blade pointed at an angle.<p>

"But it feels so much better like this!" I complained, showing him I liked to point the glowing sword straight up."Come on, Clary. Be adventurous, try new things." I pouted, and he shook his head, muttering to himself under his breath as he fixed my elbow.

"Oh, that feels good to," I admitted sheepishly, realizing the way I had been holding it at an angle was incorrect.

He told me to swipe at him. I did, and he dodged it easily with a parry, side-stepping my attack and stopping my blade in midair with his. "That was a defensive move," he commented, showing me how to parry. After a few swipes at me, I understood how to anticipate where the attack was headed and how to easily dodge it, or stop it. Jace ran his fingers through his hair. "Defense may be the part of a battle that saves your life," he said, whispering to his seraph blade and closing it. I followed to suit, letting it dangle at my side just like he did.

Then, he showed me how to quickly and effectively remove my seraph blade, whipping it out of the pocket of the tight, black suit I had taken from the shadowhunting closet downstairs. It had probably been my mother's when she was younger, and it fit me like a glove, or something more seductive by the way Jace had been eyeing me hungrily all afternoon.

"Try it," Jace said after he'd showed me to draw my blade and yell the name quickly, pointing it in the direction of my opponent.

I whipped it out of my holster as quickly as I could, calling _Ithuriel_ as soon as it was raised. The blade flashed to life, throwing a blue glow across Jace's face. "Too slow. You'd be dead," he reprimanded, ducking out of the way of my blade.

"Nu uh," I said childishly. "That was super fast." Jace laughed, coming back toward me.

"Alright," he taunted, "let's race."

"Fine," I agreed in my snobby voice, returning _Ithuriel _to its holster. "If I win, you have to sing 'Barbie Girl' in front of the whole basketball team."

"Fine, but **when** I win, you have to make me a sandwich."

"Oh, it's on," I said. "I count."

"Fine with me."

"Three…" I started, eyeing him down, ready to beat him and shove his words back into his face.

"Two…" My hand flinched toward my blade.

"One!" I called, snatching my blade from my thigh and pointing it toward Jace, preparing to call out its name. In a whoosh of air, Jace had rushed to me, dipping me backwards with his blade to my throat, his lips just inches from mine. He had a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling my nose. I waited for the kiss, waited and waited, but he merely whispered, "Too slow," before placing me back on my feet and heading off to the kitchen. "Now make me a sandwich!" He called to me, where I stood dumbfounded. I had lost. I followed him into the kitchen and began making ham sandwiches for lunch. Jace scarfed his down like a rabid animal, something I commented on, to which he replied, "Want me to give you rabies, baby?" I rolled my eyes, grabbing my bag and heading to the rental car, sandwich in hand. Jace slid into the driver's seat after tossing the weapons bag into the trunk. Jace snatched my sandwich and ate half in one bite.

"Uh, Jace?" I asked.

"Wahh?" he mumbled over a mouthful.

"How are we going to get through the airport with a bag full of weapons?"

"The donf wook wike weehans."

"Swallow, then speak," I directed. He complied, his Adam's apple bobbing as he downed his giant bite.

"I said, 'They don't look like weapons.'" I simply nodded, hoping Jace would be jailed instead of me if we got caught. I sat in the car, staring straight out the windshield as Jace and I lapsed into yet another long silence. I was not pleased by this, so I leaned forward, cranking the stereo and singing along to the songs, eager to get back to New York and find my family. Jace pulled into the airport and grabbed all the bags, tugging me along quickly through the lobbies and past terminals until we reached our destination. We mounted the steps onto the plane and sat down next to each other on the sleek black leather couch. I was sort of repulsed by the idea that this was my father's plane, but still liked the idea that I was on a private jet.

I sat quietly on the airplane ride home, watching Jace sleep contentedly on the couch, looking so innocent, so beautiful. His head was in my lap, and I played with his golden curls, stroking my fingers through the brilliant mane, scratching my nails along his scalp. He'd smiled when something felt good, but his breathing remained even, telling me he was still asleep. I used this time to think, trying to unscramble my childhood. It didn't work. I just ended up right back where I started, only remembering my normal, Jace-filled childhood and that one instance in the basement. "Hey," Jace said, drawing me out of my deep thoughts, his angelic voice thick with sleep. We were somewhere over Pennsylvania. He pecked my cheek. "You okay?" I took his hand and traced the runes that had been left behind. There were so many different patterns tattooed together on his skin that it was a mess, but beautiful all at once. It was beautiful chaos. I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

"Yes," I attempted to lie, but realized I had failed when my voice wavered slightly. "No," I corrected truthfully. Jace laced his fingers through mine.

"Wanna talk about it?" He kissed my temple when I nodded, silently urging me to start.

"What are we, Jace?" I asked, surprising myself by the first question. I thought about it a little and was actually glad I had asked it. With everything that was happening, I couldn't have this question further confusing me. I looked up into his blazing eyes, swooning a little.

"Shadowhunters," he replied automatically, not understanding my question. I buried my face into his neck, shaking my head, my red curls bobbing up and down with the motion.

"That's not what I meant," I muttered into his skin, tasting a little of him as I did this.

"What did you mean?" I sighed.

"Nevermind." Jace sat up from his lying position, jerking my head off his chest and pulling me into a sitting position also. He apologized quickly, taking my hands in his. I just looked at him, eyes narrowed, curious as to what he was doing.

"Clary," he began, but stopped abruptly, scrunching his eyebrows together in a cute, concentrated way. "Morgen," he amended, knowing that my heart skipped a beat whenever he said my nickname. It didn't disappoint this time, thudding unevenly in my chest as my breath hitched in my throat. "Will you be my girlfriend?" I blinked, dumbfounded. This was not what I had expected. I had seriously been expecting him to say that we were friends, or even friends with benefits. I surely hadn't even thought that he could possibly want me to be his girlfriend. I was, well _me_, and he was, well him. I couldn't think of a different way to explain it. Someone angelic wasn't supposed to want someone so plain. l recovered quickly.

"Jace…" I started, seeing rejection cross his beautiful golden orbs. I smoothed a piece of golden hair that was sticking straight up on his head and flashed him one of his signature wicked smirks, hoping it had the same knock-your-socks-off effect his had on me. "What happened to playing hard to get?"

He blinked, his own lips tugging up at the edges into a crooked smile. "Get over here," he growled, pulling me to him and kissing me gently on the lips, folding his arms around me. I pulled away, wanting to hear something before I fell headfirst into his. I kept myself just out of reaching distance, sort of taunting him by the tortured look that was plastered to his face. "What now?" he asked exasperatedly in a voice that made me think he was dizzy from the kiss.

"Say it," I directed, my vibrant green eyes boring directly into his, which could be compared to the color of honey in heaven. I guess, if heaven has honey.

"Say what?" he asked, impatiently.

"Say that you love me." Jace smiled, scooting closer and pulling me to him.

"Clary," he started, pressing his forehead to mine, "I love you." He dropped his face closer to mine, pressing his lips to my ear. "I have since we were six." Then he kissed me, pouring his soul into me through one gentle yet passionate touch of the lips.

"Yes," I said after he pulled away. He looked at me questionably.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I will be your girlfriend." That statement earned me another round of kisses consisting of pecks on my cheek, neck, and forehead that left me lightheaded and content. I snuggled into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, loving that he was mine, and only mine. I had kicked off my socks, and he had done the same, our cold feet touching at the other end of the couch. The gentle caresses of his toes on mine made me smile, and when Jace would catch me smiling, he'd kiss my open lips, loving the exclusiveness as much as I was. We lay intertwined until the plane landed in New York, and it was time to leap back into reality. "Just warning you," I told him sadly as he grabbed my hand and led me off the plane, "I might not be the best girlfriend for you." He shot me a look, but I shrugged and explained, "I'm broken." Jace squeezed my hand.

"All I want is to be your glue."

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><p><em>So? Inspire me! (: All my love!<em>


	18. Chapter 17

_Jace's Point of View! haha...sorry to say, this is the beginning of the end!_

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><p>My romance with Clary had been put on hold after our arrival to New York. At Isabelle's dinner, which was a disaster, I tried to introduce her to my foster parents as my girlfriend, but she stabbed me under the table with her fork, smiling sweetly as I flinched on the words. "I'm his roommate," she told them, holding her hand across the table to shake Robert's and Marse's own hands. They'd smiled at her, believing every last word while my mouth went dry, and I began to second guess myself. Did she tell me she loved me after I told her? I began wracking my brain, trying to remember the specifics of that plane ride. I came up with nothing except the sweet kisses and my corny line after we had gotten off the plane. When had I become so sappy? I was Jace Herondale. I never melted for girls.<p>

I shook my head, trying to clear it as Clary's fist connected with the punching bag I held in front of her in the middle of our living room. All the furniture had been pushed against the walls and the windows decaled with unbreakable runes, which was Alec's helpful suggestion. "Just in case someone, cough, cough, Clary, lost their balance," he had said. Which it did happen once, and I was thankful for the window's ability to keep her from falling. I peeked around the bag filled with sand, looking at my Clary, her frizzy hair damp with sweat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her once vibrant gold eyes had become vacant, even the focus was gone before. She was tired. The puffy purple bags beneath her eyes could attest to that.

I sidestepped the punching bag, grabbing her sloppy punch mid swing. "Clary," I sighed, looking down into her eyes, they couldn't seem to focus on my face. They kept dancing around the room. I didn't know if it was the lack of sleep or her own personal fears. I laced my fingers through hers, kissing her red, swollen knuckles gently. "You need to sleep, baby," I told her, the word 'baby' rolling off my tongue before I could stop it. Clary didn't seem to notice.

"No, I need more practice," she protested, shaking her head ferociously back and forth, so quickly I thought she might shake her brain loose. I look my free hand and placed it on her flushed cheek, marveling at how the curve of her face fit perfectly into my hand. I gently stroked her cheek with my thumb before leaning in to kiss her temple.

"Clary, good fighters don't win without sleep."

"I've slept!"

"Napping during bio doesn't count. You need real sleep. You're all go, go, go. You go from school to basketball to training to school to basketball to training. It needs to stop." I softened my tone, realizing I sounded a bit like an overprotective father, "Let's get you some pajamas and ice." I took her to her bedroom and tossed some pajamas at her, forcing her into the bathroom and not allowing her to come out until she was changed.

Then, I gently cradled her hand as I pulled her to the freezer, pulling out an icepack and wrapping it in a kitchen towel. I held it to her knuckles as I sat her onto the couch next to me. The couch was pushed against the wall, so the only thing we could see was the kitchen, but that didn't matter to me. All that mattered was that Clary was resting. I kissed her cheek.

"There," I cooed as I wrapped my arm around her. Her head lolled to the side, landing in the crook of my shoulder. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" She shook her head gently, the effects of tiredness beginning to pull her in. Her curls fell in ringlets across my chest, contrasting deeply against the stark white t-shirt I was wearing. Her body was warm and soft on mine, and I gently rubbed lazy circles on her back, waiting for her to fall asleep.

"Jace?" she mumbled into my skin.

"Hmm?" I replied, not wanting to break the blissful state she was in, hoping and praying she would finally go to sleep soon, before she passed out from exhaustion, although that was the next best option.

"Will you sing to me?" I laughed quietly, twisting a piece of her fiery hair around my index finger.

"Sure," I said softly, beginning to hum. She stretched herself out across the couch, placing her head in my lap, her eyelids closed. I reached down and touched her face, wondering how something so angelic could be real, and mine.

_Once there was a way,_

_To get back homeward._

_Once there was a way_

_To get back home._

Clary's eyes twitched beneath her lids as she recognized the song. I smiled and brushed a stray curl off her face, continuing to watch my beautiful girlfriend. She'd been so concerned with taking care of everyone else that she hadn't even thought to take care of herself. I smoothed the bags beneath her eyes, feeling her shudder at my touch.

_Sleep, pretty darling,_

_Do not cry_

_And I will sing a lullaby._

Clary smiled, opening her mouth to join in, but I pressed a finger to her lips, making a quiet shushing noise. "It's my turn to sing you this song," I whispered into her ear, my lips brushing her warm neck. She sighed, but complied, snuggling down deeper and folding her arms over her stomach.

_Golden slumbers,_

_Fill your eyes_

_Smiles await you when you rise_

_Sleep pretty darling_

_Do not cry_

_And I will sing a lullaby._

Clary's mouth opened again, forming an "O". I prepared to shush her again, but then I heard her soft, even breathing, and realized she had fallen asleep. I ran my fingers carefully through her tangled and matted hair, smiling to myself, remembering when she used to sing this to me after the harsh nights with her father, how she'd brush her soft fingers through my hair and sing me to sleep. Emasculating, I know, but it was one of my most cherished memories.

_Once there was a way_

_To get back homeward._

_Once there was a way_

_To get back home._

She looked so peaceful in her slumber, so vulnerable, so perfect. I kept singing, hoping to please her.

_Sleep, pretty darling_

_Do not cry_

_And I will sing a lullaby_.

Finishing the final notes, I touched my lips gently to hers, hearing the soft moan at the back of her throat. I chuckled, slipping my arms beneath her and carrying to her bedroom, bridal style. I set her gently on her bed, checking to make sure the pillows were fluffy and comfortable. As I pulled the quilts up over her, she stirred, her green eyes flying wildly open, searching for me. "Jace?" she asked frantically. I framed her face with my hands.

"I'm right here," I told her. She reached up and cupped my face with one of her delicate hands, shaking with tiredness.

"Will you stay with me?" her voice was small and wavering, as if she was afraid I would tell her no, as if that was even the slightest possibility. I slid into the bed on the other side and pulled her to my chest, holding her tightly to me.

"I'm not going anywhere." She smiled and snuggled deeper into the circle of my arms, collapsing into a deep sleep almost instantly. I watched her for awhile, getting lost in her freckles, in her perfect face, in the way her eyebrows furrowed at something in her dream. Sometimes she would sharply intake a breath and then hold it, as if something tense was happening in her dream. At those times, I would rub her back and reassure her that everything was okay until she breathed again.

Her life was taking a toll on her health: mental and physical. She seemed so weak and frail in my arms. And she was so pale! Her skin was nearly translucent, the two runes she had received visible against her skin. She'd been wearing sweaters and long-sleeved under armour to cover them. Her hair always seemed to be down now, as if she was ashamed of the rune on her neck. I tentatively brushed her hair aside, tracing the intricate swirls at her neck, confused because they didn't make up just one rune. They made up multiple. Trying not to wake her, I leaned over her trying to see how many there were. I couldn't tell in the dark, but there were at least two. Clary shifted, startling me. I collapsed back onto the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut and whispering that everything was going to be okay. I couldn't tell if it was for Clary or for me.

I don't know exactly when I fell asleep, but I remember waking up to the soft strum of a guitar. I propped myself up on my elbows, craning my neck to see Clary hovering in the doorway, fingers playing random chords on my guitar. I quirked an eyebrow at her, "You know how to play?" She smiled and sat at the foot of the bed, laying the guitar gently on the floor.

"Just what you taught me," she replied. I motioned for her to come closer, and she crawled onto my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. I breathed in her sweet strawberry scent, checking and seeing she had showered. The bags beneath her eyes were gone, and her eyes were once again alive, glowing with happiness.

"What's going on?" I asked nervously, knowing she was up to something.

"Well," she said, weaving her fingers through mine. "I've been thinking."

"Thinking? Wow, that's new," I teased, and she frowned. "Just kidding," I said, squeezing her hand.

"Well," she repeated, "I've been thinking about that airplane ride home, and what you said to me, and…" She broke off, letting the sentence drop at the end, tormenting me.

"And what?" I asked impatiently, jittery at the idea of knowing what her thoughts were about my words and actions. She smiled and crawled away from me. She reached down to the floor, grabbing the guitar. She stood up and slid the strap over her shoulder and began to strum surer, faster chords. "What are you doing?" I shook my head, and she smiled brightly, more awake than I'd seen her in awhile.

"You've sang me a bunch of songs, and now it's my turn to reciprocate." She giggled happily, continuing to dance around in her pajamas and laugh. I leaned against her headboard and watching, enjoying the view. I enjoyed the sound even more as soon as her melodic voice began to sing.

_I like the way you sound in the morning._

_We're on the phone and without a warning,_

_I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard._

Clary smiled up at me through thick lashes, looking back down at the guitar to hit some more notes. She danced and twirled on her toes, hitting every note so perfectly that I had to fist the blankets to keep me from grabbing her and kissing her. I would have if I didn't want to hear the rest of the song so badly.

_I like the way I can't keep my focus_

_I watch you talk, and you didn't notice_

_I hear the words, but all I can think is _

_We should be together._

I recognized the song as Taylor Swift's, but Clary sang it so much better, and she was prettier too, which was just a bonus for me.

_Every time you smile, I smile_

_And every time you shine, I'll shine for you._

I smiled, just to test the lyrics. Clary sent me a one hundred watt smile back, spinning in another circle, her red hair flowing around her shoulders like a veil.

_Whoa, I'm feeling you baby_

_Don't be afraid to _

_Jump then fall_

_Jump then fall into me._

_Baby, I'm never gonna leave you_

_Say that you wanna be with me too_

'_Cause I'm gonna stay through it all_

_So jump then fall._

She sat down on the bed next to me, and I snaked my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. She pecked me on the cheek and continued to sing, to my pleasure.

_Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face._

_You got the keys to me, I love each freckle on your face._

_Oh, I've never been so wrapped up, honey_

_I like the way you're everything I've ever wanted._

I couldn't stand it anymore. I pressed my mouth to hers, loving the taste of her tongue. We hadn't kissed like this since the kisses on the airplane, and now I realized it was well worth the wait. I slipped the guitar over her head and pushed her onto the bed, balancing above her carefully, her lips molding to mine. I felt her hands tangle into my hair, and I smiled against her lips. Just as the lyrics said, she smiled back, and surprised me by pulling away to look into my eyes. I loved seeing her green eyes bright again. "I love you," she whispered, before pulling my face back to hers. When I rolled over and lay down next to her, I realized why I, Jace Herondale, had never melted for a girl before. It was because I was already melted for Clary. I blinked, dizzy from the electrifying kisses Clary and I always seemed to share.

Her fingers traced the hard planes of my chest as it rose and fell with my deep breaths. She eyed my face carefully. "What are you thinking?" I asked her, staring up at the ceiling.

"About my dream." I smiled, flipping onto my side and propping my head up with my elbow.

"Which was about?" She dropped her gaze, hesitating. "Clary?" I asked cautiously.

"The kidnapping," she replied in a small voice. I touched her cheek where a tear streaked a path down her perfect, creamy skin. It was my silent prompt for her to continue. "It was so real, so lively. I saw them being led out of the hotel, all of them, with guns pressed to their necks and sharp knives glinting in the moonlight." A sob escaped her throat, but I didn't move, fearing she'd stop. "The last dream had Maia in it, but this dream, this one, I replaced her." She shuddered. "And you were there, too. You were watching from the shadows." I froze in shock, watching the tears stream steadily down her face. She cried quietly for a moment before I was able to move again. I brushed her hair back from her neck, revealing the mess of her runes, making the connections, and realizing the truth, finding the answers.

"Clary, those aren't dreams," I told her. She looked up at me, her green eyes full of confusion. I brushed my thumb down her cheek, and she automatically leaned into my touch. "Those are memories."

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><p><em>So...? Check out my Twilight Fanfic :) hehe ~All my love.<em>


	19. Chapter 18

_This story is nearing its end :( haha but there will be more to come...maybe a sequel far far into the future. Do I hear wedding bells? Hmm we'll have to find out...but for now, here's the tragically dramatic story of Clary's life:_

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><p>I stared at Jace in complete shock. "Memories?" I asked sarcastically, rolling my eyes. The boy had to be mental, but the look in his eyes was so sincere as he nodded, not even noticing my doubt. I petted the blankets while I waited for him to explain, to tell me his sudden outburst of more secrets, more lies.<p>

Jace suddenly jumped off the bed and was standing, pacing the length of my bedroom, rubbing his angular chin between his thumb and index finger. "Yeah, memories. Dreams are memories tainted with desires and fears, combined with more recent or older memories." He blinked a few times before noticing my jaw was unhinged, my chin practically scraping the floor. "I took Advanced Psych class this year." I moved my mouth to speak, but he held up a finger, "Don't judge." My mouth shut with an audible snap.

"So, it's happened before? I've been kidnapped?" Jace was mumbling incoherent things to himself as he continued to pace back and forth, almost leaving a trail. He was shirtless, his white t-shirt having somehow been removed earlier this morning, and I blushed, dropping my face into my hands and trying desperately to remember when I'd been kidnapped. My memories were hazy, at least, the ones that were supposed to have been forgotten. A thick fog coated the people's faces and a loud roar drowned out their voices, leaving me an opaque, silent version of my childhood, no subtitles included.

"Clary," Jace murmured my name, but I was barely aware that I was sitting cross-legged on my bed at Prescott, barely aware that my gorgeous boyfriend was trying to get my attention, barely aware of anything but the screaming, the ceaseless screaming echoing in my mind, high-pitched and agonized, like the squeal of a tortured puppy. Just like that, I was sucked into a lost memory, hardly conscious of the pressure on my hand as Jace wrapped his fingers around my own.

My memory was foggy, but I could tell the world was tall, seen from the green eyes of a young girl, no older than six. The screaming erupted from her own lips, sending shivers down my spine as I listened to myself cry out. "Mommy!" I called, watching an obscure body fall to the ground. I saw red hair spread out across the ground, or was it blood? I couldn't tell. Wild eyes focused on me, glowering at me for calling out.

"Compassion?" the blurry man asked a sick smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Valentine," he spat my father's name, "has taught you **compassion**?" He laughed menacingly with a blade glinting in the candlelight of a basement, cement walls shrouding the victims from the world. I blinked, shrinking back into the shadowy corner, hugging my small knees to my chest, trying to hide from the man. The man spun the blade on his fingertips, watching in interest as it twisted and turned, almost cutting him with every swipe. Another scream racked my body as he stepped closer, his fist clenching around the handle of the knife. "Shut up, you stupid, ignorant child." His face was right next to mine now, his eyes closed and his breath hot and sticky as it coated my skin. It smelled of garlic and onions, making my young self gag. I looked frantically around the room, trying to find something to defend myself with, groaning in frustration when all I came up with as a wooden board halfway across the room.

Not a board, as I had thought as a child, but a sign, a sign to a pizza place, a place Clary had been to when she was younger but had never remembered. Pizza Pi. Pi as in 3.14159, ect. The world swirled around me as I was shifted into another memory, a clearer, brighter one, but yet another new one.

I was four. I could tell because I was wearing my favorite Elmo shoes. They were red with Elmo's eyes drawn on the Velcro strip and his orange nose covering the tip. I held my father's hand as my brother ordered a slice of cheese pizza, excitedly grabbing the balloons a smiling clerk offered him over the counter. I looked backward, exasperatedly pushing the red curls that had tumbled into my face out of the way. I saw my mother smiling at me, waving. Above her straight, red hair was a sign. Pizza Pi. Turning back toward Jon, I could only see the back of his white head as he slid down the line with a slice of pizza plopped onto his tray.

Again, my memory morphed, back to the previous one, continuing where I had been huddled in the corner, terrified of the man standing before me. "Well, little girl," he said, eyes closed, voice menacingly calm, "it's time for me to take what has been taken from me." The knife flashed in his grip has his eyes flew open, revealing startlingly beautiful golden irises.

"Clary!" Jace's frantic voice said, pulling my back to the present. "Where'd you go?" he asked seriously. I felt a sharp tingle at my neck, and my hand involuntarily went to massage it. Jace's gaze moved from my eyes to my hand, which he carefully removed from my neck. He gasped quietly, and I looked up at him.

"There are two more, aren't there?" I asked, watching his solemn nod. I quickly pushed him aside and fluttered about the room, tugging on clean clothes and grabbing my purse. I hopped unsteadily on one foot as I tried to tug on my boot. Jace put a steadying hand on my hip. "Care to fill me in?" His eyes were clouded with confusion. His golden eyes. I unthinkingly shied away from his touch, the memory resurfacing against my will. His fingers twitched toward me as his hand fell dejectedly to his side.

"Not now," I managed to breathe out as I grabbed some money off my dresser. I flew out of the room and into the kitchen, stopping there and leaning against the countertop to catch my breath. Jace followed me, but I kept him at arms distance. "I need to go." I said, avoiding his probing eyes.

"I'm coming with you," he said matter-of-factly. I sighed, knowing this was going to be a yes-no war.

"No, you are most certainly not."

"You can't stop me."

"You can't come with me." I crossed my arms defiantly across my chest, trying to make myself look as big and tough as possible.

"I'll follow you." He matched my stance, showing me exactly how much bigger he was than me.

"I'll report you for stalking."

"Don't forget, girl," he said, smirking, and I knew he'd won, "I know _all_ of your secrets." I groaned, but complied, after all, if I had just been a young girl, Jace couldn't possibly be the grown, golden-eyed man.

"Fine."

"Great!" he said giddily, practically skipping off to his room, calling over his shoulder, "Just let me grab my keys." I leaned my elbow on the counter, tapping my fingernails against the granite. "Back!" he called, looping his arm through mine and dragging me out the door, twirling his keys on his fingers, reminding me of the shiny blade. I snatched the keys and sprinted to his car, not even bothering with the valet. "Clary, you are _not_ driving my baby," he said mocking anger.

I pouted, "I thought I was your baby."

He smirked, "You're my back-up baby, for the places where this baby," he patted the hood of his shiny black car, "can't fit."

"Whatever," I said, slamming the driver's side door and pressing the lock down with my thumb. Jace tapped on the window with his knuckles, but I stuck the key in the ignition and revved the engine, smiling as he cringed. I shifted it into drive, watching Jace's eyes widen. In a moment, he was buckled firmly in the passenger's seat, glaring at me across the whole foot of distance between us. I pulled the car out of the parking space and skillfully drove the route to downtown New York. "Jace, you have your phone?" He nodded in my peripherals. I didn't dare look at him, nervous it would flare his anger that I wasn't looking at the road while I was driving his expensive car. "Google, 'Pizza Pi, New York, New York," I instructed. His phone remained in his pocket.

"Why should I help you?" he said childishly. I didn't have any more time for his games.

"Just do it!" My voice rose an octave, but it worked because a moment later he was telling me there were two Pizza Pi's on Main Street in New York. "Gah!" I cried in frustrated. "How old are they?" I asked, trying to see if we could find which one it was.

"Well," he said after punching a few buttons on his screen. "One was constructed in 1989, and the other was built…" he paused a moment while the page loaded, "two years ago."

"Get me directions to the one that was built in 1989." He rambled off turns, obviously knowing where each one was, but I was completely clueless. "Just tell me as they come up." My hands were sweating with anxiety.

"Clary, slow down," he said, his voice a little squeaky as I drove down Main Street. We arrived at Pizza Pi, and I whipped into a parking spot, yanking the keys out of the ignition and tossing them at Jace. I glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing the big bag of weapons still in here from when we came back from Ohio, since I had only used fake ones for training.

"This is it," I said to myself.

"What did you say, Clary?" Jace asked nervously. I hopped out of the car, tugging the bag of weapons with me. I set it on the ground and started rifling through it, grabbing two seraph blades and chucking them at Jace. "Whoa!" he said, caught off guard as he easily snatched them out of the air. "What is this all about?" I grabbed a seraph blade and a whip pulsing with energy for myself before putting the bag back in the truck.

"This?" I said gesturing around me, "this is about where your father took my family." I said, striding toward the door. Jace rushed after me.

"Whoa, slow down there," he said as if I were a horse he was riding. I glared at him, but it didn't offend him. "You don't even know the situation. There are people that are going to see and ask questions and what if they aren't even down there."  
>"I know there down there," I interrupted, taking another step toward the door.<p>

"How?" he challenged.

"This was from my memory, where I was taken as a child. We were captured in the basement of this place," I said surely, not offering anymore details as I wrapped my fingers around the door handle.

"Wait." Jace carefully came up behind me and took my fingers off the handle.

"Why are you trying to stop me?" I exploded. "Is it because it's your father that's the bad guy this time? Do you not want to believe it?" I couldn't stop the harsh words before the tumbled from my mouth. Jace's face paled. "Jace, I'm so sorr—" He walked away from me and roughly pulled open a cellar door, one that must have lead to the basement. His golden eyes didn't meet mine as he ushered me into the basement. I stepped in, and he followed, shutting the door quietly behind us. Then, still being protective, he stepped in front of me, leading the way as he illuminated the dark basement with his witchlight. The stairs creaked beneath our shared weight as we crept slowly into the unknown. We landed at the base and I looked around the room, seeing nothing but pizza sauce, vegetables, and other food. It really was just a cellar. Jace's face turned to me, but surprisingly there was no hint of I-told-you-so in his facial expression. I sighed, turning around to head back toward the stairs.

I jerked suddenly, a distinct sound reaching my ears. I fisted Jace's t-shirt behind me, pointing toward a door hidden partially by boxes reading Pizza Pi. From behind the door flowed the sound of endless screaming. Not one voice, but three.

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><p><em>So?...maybe two chapters left? IDK haha Tell me what you think :)<em>


	20. Chapter 19

_New Chapter! (: hehe had an interesting time writing this one. I had a hard time planning out the plot, so here it is...hope you enjoy :)_

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><p>The bloodcurdling screams continued to echo from the room on the opposite side of the wall. Jace and I inched toward the door, careful enough not to make a noticeable sound. The air in the room was warm, but I was chilled to my very core, the screams shaking my calm, my nervousness rising to the surface. I wiped a droplet of sweat from behind my neck, careful to pull my curly hair back over the runes on my skin, sticking out like tomato sauce on white tile. We were a foot away from the door when Jace held his hand up in a way that told me to stop. I halted, knowing Jace wanted to try and protect me from whatever was coming from the other side of the door. I watched as he leaned in closer, pressing his ear against the smooth wooden surface of the door, flinching away as the scream fully hit his ears. He caught my eyes and pointed at the door in a way that said, <em>It's coming from there.<em> I shot him a no-duh-you-idiot look and flipped my palms up. He rolled his enticing golden eyes and jiggled the brass handle of the door, staring at it forcefully as it rattled but didn't open. He slid his sleek, black stele out of his jeans pocket, running his left hand through his tangled, golden locks as he went to work on the handle, tracing the memorized pattern of the unlocking rune against the metal.

I waited, bouncing on my heels in anticipation, as I watched the silvery rune sink into the metal and disappear completely. Jace's strong, skilled fingers wrapped firmly around the handle and twisted. It jiggled under his grip. "What the—" he whispered to himself as he wrapped both hands around the metal and yanked, putting one foot against the wall as a brace. He dropped his hands and cursed quietly, scuffing his shoe against the ground. "How the hek are we going to get in now?" I put a finger to my lips, silently shushing his loud, frustrated tone. He raised his eyebrows in apology, and I slipped past him, easily sliding the stele from his grasp and holding it nimbly in between my thumb and index finger, the way I would hold a fine-tipped paintbrush. I closed my eyes, praying this would work. Whispering the world access over and over again in my mind, I began to trace the lines that glowed behind my eyelids, drawing every curve, every arc exactly how it was displayed in my mind, standing on my tiptoes and dipping down low to accommodate the whole door. It was almost a graceful dance, the way the stele cut smoothly across the door, following my instruction, yet somehow having a mind of its own. I heard Jace suck in a breath as he watched a rune appear beneath the tip of the stele.

When I thought I was finished, I stepped back to admire my work, immediately noticing why Jace had gasped. Instead of the faint, silver shimmer of normal runes, this rune burst with light, casting brilliant golden shadows across the dreary cellar. "Amazing…" Jace murmured behind me, reaching up to touch the glowing lines, but then withdrawing his hand. I couldn't tell whether he was afraid or in awe. Despite my own worries, I touched the doorknob, feeling a buzzing sensation shoot up my arm and awaken my whole body. The door flew clear off its hinges and into the room on the other side, landing with a loud smack on the concrete floor. I watched in awe as the wood shattered like glass, sending splinters of oak through the air, dotting the gray floor. The crack rang over and over again in my ears, like an iPod on repeat, and at long last, the screaming stopped, giving way to the scariest, loudest silence I had ever experienced in my life. I gave my head one, hard shake to clear it, my red curls springing up and down with the motion. I tucked them angrily behind my ears, eager to enter the room, but Jace's voice rooted me in my position as he stepped in front of me, preventing any movement into the unknown room.

"How did you…?" Jace's sentence dropped off into a question as he peered into the gaping hole, jerking his head away and looking at me with sad golden eyes. I shoved my way through, dropping Jace's stele to the ground in my haste. The metal clanked against the concrete, but it was just a minor sound compared to the blood rushing through my ears as I scanned the room, my fingers playing idly with the stele shoved securely into my pocket. The air in the room was stagnant, filled with the pungent scent of blood, sweat, and mold. The lighting was dim, the room only lit by old-fashioned lamps with fire dancing and swirling inside a glass enclosure. My green eyes locked on a familiar figure. A tall, lean woman was sprawled across the floor, red hair splayed around her head in an almost artistic way. With another look, my stomach twisted. It looked more like blood than hair. A ragged sob escaped my lips as a jackhammer worked inside my ribcage, the constant beat pounding in my ears.

"Mommy," I mumbled, crossing the room in two quick strides, taking her head and cradling it in my lap. Her green eyes glistened with tears, staring into mine. Her usually creamy complexion was drained of all color, leaving behind pale, hollow cheeks. I quickly unbound the gag that kept her from speaking. "Mommy," I whispered to her, stroking her hair, noticing the gash that ran from her neck to behind her ear. Crimson liquid oozed from the wound, seeping onto my clothes and pooling on the floor.

"My baby," she said, reaching up and trailing her fingers across my cheek in a motherly way, smiling despite her pain. Her frail hands shook with weakness as the stopped beneath my chin. There was a question in her eyes as they fluttered shut for a moment. I panicked, calling to Jace who was pacing in front of the hole. He crouched down beside my mother and touched his stele to her neck, tracing a hexagonal rune against the gash. I watched as the cut mended itself, weaving new skin with the old skin. I pushed a bloody curl off her forehead, a silent tear slipping down my cheek as her eyes opened once again. They eyed the same spot they had landed on before, and I realized that my runes were exposed, since I had yanked my curls behind my ears in the cellar. My mother smiled. "I guess you always were your mother's daughter." Her voice was quiet, but the iraze seemed to be having a good effect, some color rising to her cheeks again. Her hands steadied slightly as her slim, artist's fingers curled around me. Her weak squeeze surprised me, and anger bubbled inside me as I thought of what she might have had to endure.

A small whimper sounded from the other corner of the room. My head whirled to its source, and I suppressed a gag, my stomach clenching again. Maia was huddled in the corner, a blindfold covering her eyes as her shackled wrists were hung above her head. I looked up to her bound hands, instantly regretting my curiousness. Her wrists were slashed deeply, with grotesque pieces of silver protruding from the gaping wounds, blood pouring down her arms and coating her body in glossy crimson. A dirty gag muffled her pleas for help as her limbs lay limply in front of her. Jace cursed loudly, jumping away from my mother and me and sprinting toward Maia.

He removed her blindfold and gag, murmuring that he was going to help her, but it might hurt slightly. Maia didn't seem to comprehend. Her once alive and mischievous eyes were glassy and vacant, shifting around the room as if she were at one of the art galleries with me. I winced at her cries as Jace quickly removed the silver from her wounds. I watched as he released her from the shackles and sat next to her, holding her as she cried. I didn't even have it in me to jealous. I was too worried for my family and friends, sickened by the thought of what they had to go through, knowing the reason why they had to go through it was me.

"She's a werewolf," Jace said, spitting the words through his teeth. "My father was torturing her." My hand flew to my mouth, trying desperately to hold in the bile that unwillingly rose in my throat. At my side, my mother was trying to get up, her jeans and t-shirt torn to shreds, her legs threatening to give out on her at any moment.

"Mom, stay down," I said, resting a hand on her shoulder. I resisted the urge to cringe away from her sharp collarbone. I glanced around the room, remembering. There, crouched against the wall, as far away from the others as possible, was Jon. But yet, it wasn't Jon. He wasn't moving. His eyes were rolled back into his head, his mouth gaping, but yet not moving. His head was at an awkward angle, as if he had fallen asleep, and it lolled to the side. "No!" I screamed, loudly, running to my brother. I slapped his cheeks with my hands, tears welling up in my eyes as I struggled to grasp the truth. "No, you are not dead," I chanted, "not dead, not dead, not dead." Tears fell onto his pale face, bringing my attention to his bloodstained hair. I sobbed loudly, pulling my brother to my chest, shaking his limp body with sobs. Jace's cry of pain jolted me back to the present, and I gently laid Jon down against the concrete, twisting my body slowly, my hand flying to my throat as I saw Jace's body writhing on the ground, a blue current pulsing over his body as his mouth parted with silenced screams, his eyes closed in pain.

I lifted my gaze. I backed away in repulsion, recognizing the dark eyes that stared back at me, but not wanting to believe. Valentine smiled a wicked grin, thumbing a dagger clasped in his right hand. "Ah, my Clarissa," he spat my name, as if it were a cuss word. "So you remember." He eyed the runes on my neck triumphantly, curiously examining the multitude of pointless black swirls embroidering the skin rising from my shoulders to my chin. "I knew you would." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. The blade in his hand spun, catching the lamplight and throwing it around the room in swirling patterns, causing me to sway on my feet. His eyes raked my bloodied body, landing on my lips, which were twitching with threats I couldn't speak. I wanted so badly to curse him, to spit on him, to share my hatred with him, but how could I? He was my father, the one who had raised me, taught me to ride a bike, walked me to school.

He continued to scrutinize me, occasionally mumbling something incoherently, his dark, seductive eyes drinking in every part of me. As his eyes bore down on me, images of my brother's face flashed through my mind, alive and dead. I somehow mustered the strength to shove my father away from me, but all he did was step backward, completely balanced. "Ah, Clarissa, you never were strong, were you?" His eyes met mine as he made a _tsk_ing noise. With a quick push, I was against the wall, a crack reaching my ears as my head collided with the concrete. I didn't cry out in pain, I didn't scream. I would not give him that satisfaction.

He looked at me, but merely shrugged. "So," he said as coolly as if her were just discussing the weather with a friend, "what do you remember exactly?" I continued to glare at him, completely silent. "Ah, so you remember when I locked you up in our basement with Jace and forced you to eat angel's blood for a month." I inwardly gagged, hatred seeping into my words like venom.

"I will kill you," I announced, my words dripping with anger. Valentine laughed deeply, doubling over in hysterics.

"Kill me? Not a chance, my little sweetheart." He reached up to stroke a hand against my face, and I spit on him, watching in pleasure as he jerked his hand away, wiping it across his shirt. "Stupid child." My cheek stung as he slapped me, calling me names and cursing me. My mother screamed out for me, but Valentine wacked her on the head with the hilt of his knife, knocking her out. "Now, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted by you?" He gave me a harsh glare, but I matched his gaze. "Oh yeah, why you would remember this place. Do you remember anything about this place?" I spit again, and my father laughed.

"No? Okay, well here's the Cliff Notes version of your childhood abduction." A slow grin spread across his face, exposing his dangerously, unnaturally sharp teeth, almost rivaling the teeth of the demon I'd killed at my house. "Well, Stephan found out about the angel's blood and was furious, demanding I undo it or he'd make me pay. I'd laughed in his face, telling him that nothing could harm me." He was whispering to me with one hand covering his mouth, like a child telling her friend a secret. His breath slashed at my face, reeking of garlic. I cringed away and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore him.

"But I couldn't undo what had been done. Jace was physically altered for life." I risked a glance at my favorite golden boy, who was now still, his eyes squeezed shut tightly in pain. "He captured you and your mother, believing he could use you guys as hostages." He spat on the ground, his spit the color of demon's blood. He laughed menacingly. "He took you here, threatening your lives, but my indifference shocked him." He paused for dramatic effect, turning the dagger over in his palm and pressing the sharp edge into his skin, nearly drawing blood. "I told him, nay, dared him to kill you, dared him to rid me of my mistakes, the nuisances in my life." My eyes flashed to my mother. She still lay limp on the ground, the blood from her cheek still coating her clothes.

"But I thought Stephen had captured you guys now." My father laughed.

"Silly humans, they can't see through the glamour." He lifted the sleeve of his shirt to show me runes I had never seen before. Gears were turning in my head as I made connections. My father had disguised himself as Stephen Herondale. I took a step away from him.

He began stalking me, coming closer and closer as I backed away, slowly, ever so slowly until I was backed against a wall, and he was poised for attack. "You, Clarissa," he said, pointing a dagger at me, "were supposed to be my prized possession, my perfect warrior. You were supposed to bring me power, happiness. But that wench over there," he shifted the dagger to face my mother, "forced me to allow you to be grown up a human. I argued restlessly, secretly training you and running tests on you. Then time after time I'd trace the forget rune on your neck, knowing that you'd remember if I ever needed you to." He flicked something off his arm, clearly unaffected by the words falling off his tongue. "But you, you were too weak, toy feminine for my task, so I went to the next best option. Jace." He said Jace's name with such affection it made me sick. He watched Jace struggle on the floor with loving eyes, laughing quietly to himself at each of Jace's futile attempts to stop the pain. "I injected him with the same angel's blood that courses through your veins." He smiled admiringly at the blade in his hand, anger flashing through his eyes. "Blood that I now intend to spill!" He yelled, plunging the dagger at me.

Gasping for air as the blade clipped my shoulder, I stumbled away from him, tripping over Jace in the process. His lips formed the word "No" but no sound rang throughout the room, no sound except my own, ragged breathing. Jace's eyes worriedly searched for me, the golden orbs filled with pain. They couldn't settle on my face. They twitched back and forth between me and the space beside me. Wait. Jace was sending me a message. I looked beside me and saw Jace's stele. A small smile touched Jace's lips just before they parted with another scream. "Clarissa, Clarissa. So naive. You think you can defeat me? Foolish girl. Soon enough you will be with your brother." He swung the knife at me again, but I skillfully dodge it, whipping the seraph blade from my belt. I whispered its name, watching it roar to life, pulsing with blue light, illuminating the dull room.

"Father, did you forget what you just told me? You trained me. You made me a warrior." I circled him, never taking my eyes of the spot where his heart pulsed with life. "The runes on my neck are proof of that memory resurfacing, coming back to me." My father smiled wickedly, his dark eyes wrinkling at the edges.

"Poor, Clarissa. Always so optimistic, even when death is breathing on the back of your neck." He leaped at me, and I plunged the seraph blade into his shoulder, satisfied by the sloppy sound it made as I removed it. He stumbled a little bit, blood seeping from the wound. "It seems I have underestimated you, my sweet daughter. That mistake will not be made again." A loud clacking sound came from the doorway, and Valentine whirled to see who it was. I had never been so relieved to see Izzy and Alec dressed in their shadowhunting gear, standing in the doorway. Izzy's whip was alive in her grasp, snapping as it broke the sound barrier when she lashed out at Valentine.

"Nor will you ever make any mistake again," Alec said menacingly. Valentine smiled at them, turning his head at a sickly angle.

"Ah, guestsss," he said, drawing out the s. "The more the merrier." During the distraction, I crouched beside Jace, reaching out my hand to him and curling my fingers around his. I slipped the stele from my pocket and pulled up his shirt, tracing the rune that suddenly popped into my mind. I finished the room as the sound of fighting faded away into the background. My focus was on Jace. The blue glow disappeared, and Jace lay still on the floor, eyelids closed.

"Clary!" Isabelle screamed at me. I looked up and saw Valentine's retreating figure. Alec and Izzy began chasing after him, ready to kill.

"Let him go," I commanded, sounding more like a leader than I ever had thought I'd be able to. "We will have our chance for revenge, but for now. Let's take care of the fallen." Izzy and Alec looked down to my hand, which I was trailing down Jace's face, silent tears slipping down my cheeks. Izzy shifted her weight awkwardly at the doorway, regarding me with a sad smile, her eyes glistening with moisture. I helped them walk Maia to their car. My face was somber as they carried my brother's body to their car, setting him delicately in the backseat. We carried Jace up the stairs and set him in the backseat of his own car. If I'd have known better, I would have thought he was just sleeping. My mother, who had just come to, commanded we allow her to walk to Izzy's car alone. "Take them all to get medical help."

"But what about Jace…?"

"I'll take care of him," I told her, tears threatening to spill over again. "You have a full car of passengers who need help right away."

"But…maybe Alec could stay with you." I looked at the dark haired boy, who was sobbing quietly. He hid his face as he noticed my gaze.

"No," I said, my voice coated with finality. I waved them off as they sped out of the parking lot and onto the busy New York road. Lethargically, I descended the old stairs, which creaked and groaned beneath my weight. I underestimated the situation. I caused fatalities. This was my fault. I pulled Jace's stele from the ground where I had dropped it dejectedly to the ground, knowing there wasn't a way I could bring him back. Twirling it between my fingers, I dragged myself back up the stairs and slid into the driver's seat of Jace's car. I avoided gazing into the rearview mirror as I set the stele in the cup holder, knowing Jace's face would open the gate and cause the tears to spill over.

"STUPID!" I yelled aloud to myself. "I am so, unbelievably STUPID!" A pained sob escaped my lips, complete with snot and everything as I slammed my fist into the dashboard of Jace's car.

"Hey," a strained voice reached my ears, "careful with my baby." My head snapped around, focusing on a golden set of eyes, eyelids drooping lowly over the irises. His body was slumped against the seat, and his signature smirk was covering his lips. I unbuckled my seatbelt and crawled anxiously over the center console, crawling onto Jace's lap and wrapping my arms around his warm, sweaty neck.

"I thought you were dead, and you wake up telling me to take care of your car?" I said quietly through tears. Jace gave me a pained smile, sucking in a deep breath and wiping away my tears with his rough thumbs.

"I meant you, Clary. You're my baby."

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><p><em>Aight...so...? Review Please! :) {{Don't forget to check out my Twilight fanfic}} DEAR FANS WHO WANTED AN ALL HUMAN FANFIC: I will deliver, I just don't know when I'll start so please...hang in there! :D ~All my love <em>


	21. Epologue

_Yes...Epologue! How will I ever go on? (Dramatic Fainting Scene) Oh yeah...All human Fanfic! And...Sequal? :) haha LOOK IT'S CHAPTER 21 AHH IT'S FATE! Enjoy :D_

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><p>. "Bye, Mom!" I called as I shut the faded blue front door of Luke's downtown New York City bookstore. Luke Garraway was my mother's best friend, and I had forced her to stay with him, not wanting her to go back to Ohio and be ambushed by my father. I pulled on my knitted mittens that matched perfectly with the purple pea coat was buttoned all the way up, protecting me from the Northeastern weather. My red curls spilled out of a knitted green hat with a purple flower in an attempt to keep warm on this brisk, late November day. Taking a last glance at the house behind me, I saw my mother smile as I scooped cookie dough from the mixing bowl and fed it to a waiting Luke. They were more than friends, and I knew it. They didn't know I knew, and I intended to keep it that way, waiting until they were ready to come out and tell me that they were in love. First, I had to wait for them to admit it to themselves.<p>

. I shoved my hands into my pockets, blinking as the snowflakes clung to my eyelashes, melting against the freckles on my pale skin. A glanced into a nearby store, checking out the window displays. Then I took a double-take, seeing a head of thick, blonde hair at the checkout counter. I gasped and waited for him to turn around, my heart sinking when I realized it wasn't the guy I had been waiting to see.

. Jace and I hadn't spoken since a month ago, when he woke up in the back of his car and called me his baby, wiping away my tears with his fingers and soothing me, even though he had been moments from death. The Lightwoods had whisked him away to their house in New York, which I didn't even know the address of. I kicked the soft, powdery snow with my foot, eager to get to Rockefeller Center and see the tree.

. The city was alive with the spirit of Christmas, garland twirled around every balcony, handrail, and streetlight in sight. The Christmas light's twinkled in the orangey light left behind by the sun that was quickly slipping below the horizon, making one last grand scene with purple, pink, and orange pastels swirled in the sky. I gripped my sketchpad tighter, curling my gloved fingers around the thick pages of cardstock. I ducked my face behind a veil of carrot curls, making my strides as long as my legs would allow. I couldn't say that I wasn't afraid. I was terrified, and so was my mother, but I couldn't live my life in fear of my father. I couldn't satisfy him by secluding myself from the outside world. I followed the familiar path to Rockefeller center, the same beaten path taken by so many people before me, down winding New York streets, through alleyways and across busy streets. So many thoughts swirled in my head. Memories had been coming back to me left and right over the months, memories of my secret training, memories of my beatings, memories of being force fed golden powder, 'Angel's blood.'

. I reached my destination early, spotting an open bench covered with a light dusting of snow. Perfect. I crossed over to it, brushing away the cold, semi-solid water and sat down, spreading out my pencils and paints beside me as I propped the sketchpad in my lap. The tree was glorious, rising up like an alive skyscraper, draped with glistening lights, limbs dipping beneath the weight of snow. I picked up my sharpened pencil and sketched an outline, focusing on a father standing next to the tree, his little girl perched atop his shoulders and clapping with delight as a passerby snapped a photo.

. A smile played on my lips as I let my pencil do the work, creating sharp lines that contrasted deeply with the curving arcs of the sunset behind the tree. The family was the main focus of my painting. I couldn't tell whether it was the lack of a father that drove me to draw the image or the pure simplicity in the happiness of the child's face as I saw the world from a different level. The sky darkened as I put the finishing colors on the painting, the father and daughter emphasized in dark, vivid colors whereas the background was hazy and smudged with more subdued, lighter tones. I felt someone sit next to me as I gathered my things to go.

. Without a look next to me, I stood up and began to walk away. Suddenly, the sketchpad was slipped from my grasp, and I halted, turning to face the culprit. "Hey!" I accused, seeing a man on a bench with dark, holey jeans and a black winter hat pulled over his ears. My first thought was mugger as I backed away slowly, watching the man appraise her painting, watching him rubbed his leather-clad fingers over the image. "It's beautiful," he whispered, mesmerized by the image on the page. I gasped when he looked up, seeing the blonde curls fall out from beneath his hat. "Jace!" I breathed, running into his arms as he set the painting down beside him and welcomed me. He kissed my head as I snuggled deeper into his warm embrace, fighting off tears.

. "I missed you," he whispered deeply into my ear, his breath mingling with my skin. I pulled away to look into his melted gold eyes.

. "How did you know I'd be here?" I asked.

. "I know you, Clary. I knew you wouldn't miss this for the world." He was right. This was the first night the tree was up and was completed, and I hadn't intended to miss this.

. "You could have called." I couldn't disguise the crack in my voice as I pulled out of his arms and sat down on the bench beside him, my feet dangling off the edge, but not touching the ground. He reached for my hand, but then thought better of it, clasping them in his lap.

. "Look," he said in a hushed voice, "we need to talk." I shivered, and his beautiful eyes gave me a sidelong glance, "Somewhere warm." I let him grab my hand and lead me to his new sleek back car. I shot him a questioning look, and he shrugged. "Marse couldn't stand to think that I almost died in the other car, so she bought me this." He patted his Audi, gently wiping the smudges with his black jacket. He pulled open the door for me and I slid into the seat, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place. He slid into the seat opposite me, gloating as he pushed the start button. I rolled my eyes as he sped away from the curb.

. I turned on the radio as I watched the city lights pass by in a blur, knowing Jace was driving way too quickly for the speed limit, but not caring enough to say anything. "Jace?" I asked, dropping my gaze to my shoes. I saw him look at me from the corner of my eye.

. "Mmhm?" was his quiet response, just an exhale of breath.

. "Why _didn't _you call?" I heard a heavy whoosh as he sighed and braced myself for him to tell me to get out, leave his life, that he didn't love me.

. "Clary, It's just that—"

. "It's okay, Jace. I'm a big girl. I'll get over you," I said quickly, cutting him off before he could deliver the one blow that would surely kill me. Sure, I could handle an attempted rape, a kidnapping, and a psychotic father, but I don't think I could ever handle Jace telling me that he didn't want me anymore. The car came to a halt in the middle of the road, followed by a chorus of horns and cuss words. "Jace!" I squealed as he sped up again.

. "Clary," he said slowly in a level tone, "you think I didn't call because I didn't want to?" His golden eyes had gone dark and hard as he stared at the road, his lips pressed into a thin line.

. "Well, I," I began to stutter. "I didn't know what to think…" I admitted, pulling off my mittens and knitting my cold fingers together. He performed a swift, parallel park and looked at me.

. "Clary," he said, reaching for my hands. He rubbed his leather-covered thumbs against the back of my hands as he continued to stare into my eyes. "I love you. Please, don't ever, _ever_ doubt that." With that, he got out of the car and in a sweeping motion, rounded the car and opened my door, ushering my out. "This is my favorite restaurant." I gazed up at the sign, reading Taki's. I didn't know how to describe it. It was slightly Hawaiian, slightly fifties diner, slightly elegant restaurant. It was everything. He laced his fingers through mine and led me inside, sliding into the booth across from me.

. He slid a menu my way and started reading his own, his golden eyes skimming the page leisurely, but I knew he was watching me. "Order for me," I said playfully, trying to lighten the mood. He nodded, smiling as I slid the menu back over to him. The waitress sashayed over to us, and my mouth ran dry. It was Kaelie, with her bleach-blond hair and blue eyes. "Jace," I hissed under my breath before she was in earshot. I flicked my eyes toward Kaelie, and he turned his head slightly, chuckling when he turned to look back at me.

. He reached across the table and looped his fingers through mine, keeping them there when Kaelie arrived with a notebook and pen propped in her hands. "What can I get for you?" she asked, looking pointedly at Jace. Jace didn't even look away from me as his beautiful voice articulated our order, emphasizing a certain word that made my heart flutter.

. "My _girlfriend_ and I want coconut pancakes and two hot chocolates." He smiled at me, his golden eyes melting my heart. Kaelie scribbled our order down in her notebook and huffed away, angry that Jace wasn't paying attention to her. I returned his smile, watching my reflection light up in his eyes. "Alright," he said squeezing my hand, "now we need to talk." I switched seats, so I could lean into his side as we talked, his arm wrapped around me giving me strength.

. "Where do we start?" I asked, sniffing in his delicious sunshine and sandalwood scent. He looked off into the distance before kissing the crown of my hair.

. "Maybe after Marse toted me off to the Institute," he suggested calmly.

. "Institute?"

. "It's a shadowhunter sanctuary and my house," he said shrugging.

. I made a mental note of that and reminded myself to ask him to take me there later, remembering when we had dinner with Isabelle she had taken us to her dorm room at St. Xavier's, Prescott's sister school. "Well, I spent two weeks sitting around with my mother in our dorm room, living in fear of every shadow, every noise, basically everything. Then, I found out that my mom had a good friend in New York, and we moved in, permanently." I shrugged nonchalantly because Jace's grip around me had tightened when I told him about my qualms. "What about you?" He sighed deeply, twisting his neck to look me in the eyes.

. "It took me a week before I could stay awake for more than five minutes at a time. I don't recall anything about that week after being in the car with you, but Alec told me there would be times where I would be screaming your name so loudly that they made the doctor sedate me just so I would shut up." I shook with silent laughter as Jace continued his story. "Then, the three weeks following that, Alec and I tracked Valentine, barely taking a moment to rest. But, we didn't catch him, he seems to have fallen off the globe." He stopped to check my expression, which had remained neutral. "My skin still burned from the horrible energy he had thrown at my body, demonic energy, but every time I was about to break, about to give up, the rune you traced on my chest pulsed and glowed, filling me with strength and hope." He took a deep breath. "It was like, even though you weren't with me, you still were." I smiled as he squeezed my shoulders, pressing his cheek to my hair.

. Kaelie set down two hot chocolates in front of us with a bang, splattering mine all over my arms. "Ah, hot," I moaned, trying to wipe the brown liquid off my arms. She smiled at me as she walked away, Jace using a napkin to clean up the hot chocolate. He shoved his drink over to me.

. "Have mine. She spit in yours." I snorted.

. "That's a great thought." I took a big gulp of his and waited for him to continue his story. He surprised me by asking me a question.

. "What were you thinking when you drew that rune on my chest?" I looked down and blushed. "Oh, right, besides the usual, 'Omigod, Jace has amazing abs.'" He flipped his hair and did a horrible job imitating my voice. I shoved him as I felt his chest rise with a low chuckle.

. "Do you know how I can make runes?" I asked, avoiding his question. He caught me right away, eyeing me accusingly.

. "My probable explanation is that the angel's blood gives you advanced powers, like it does with me." I swallowed some more hot chocolate, my eyebrows creased together in concentration.

. "Advanced powers?"

. "Well, for example, my awesome sexiness," he flexed a muscle and posed like a model, a very seductive model. I slapped his hands down as he tried to do another pose. "Alright, but I can really jump about ten feet in the air." He inspected his nails as if this wasn't any new news to him.

. "Ten…feet?" I choked out. Jace laughed again, watching ask Kaelie set a plate of steaming pancakes in front of him. She walked away in her tight t-shirt and cut-offs, shaking everything she could, which was basically making her jiggle unattractively all over. He slid the plate over to me. "Nu uh, did she spit in these, too?" Jace shook his head and made binoculars with his fingers.

. "I was watching her."

. "Yeahhh, that's not creepy. At all," I said sarcastically. He bumped his thigh against mine and used his fork to dunk the pancakes in the little dish of syrup off to the side. He popped the bite into his mouth and smiled.

. "Hey, do you like seafood?" he mumbled around his mouthful, so it came out more like, "Heh, oo ooh lie seafood?" I rolled my eyes but nodded, squealing as he stuck his tongue out with a mouthful of chewed food. "See? Food!" I facepalmed myself, regretting the fact that I had ever said yes, disappointed that I had fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

. "Yuck!" He smiled and wagged his tongue a little more, finally sticking it back in his mouth and swallowing. "You officially earn the nastiest boyfriend of the year award." He smiled at the word boyfriend, but I braced myself for the innuendo that was sure to follow.

. "If you wanted to get really nasty," he said, "all you had to do was ask." He wagged his eyebrows at me as I took a bite of the pancakes, moaning at the deliciousness as it exploded across my taste buds. "Good, I know." He put another mouthful on his fork and slurped it off. "I wuv yoo," he said, pancakes spilling out of his mouth as he spoke.

. "I'm starting to rethink my feelings." He swallowed and placed a chaste kiss on my lips, leaning back against the wall to look at me.

. "So, what exactly were you thinking about when you drew that rune?" I smoothed out my hair as I prepared to answer.

. "Well," I said, stalling. I looked out the window behind his head, seeing a face peak in through the glass. _Those eyes…_ The boy had light blond hair, a small nose, and dark pooling irises. "Jon," I mumbled, mesmerized.

. "You were thinking about Jon?" Jace asked as I stood up from the table, running from the restaurant, determined to catch the boy. I heard Jace curse as he dropped a fifty onto the table, following me out. I saw Jon's white-blond head bobbing up and down in the throng of people, and I sliced my way through the crowd, holding my breath as I followed him as he twisted and turned through New York. He stood before a tall, glass skyscraper, the Big Apple's lights reflecting off the surface. His head turned toward me, and I knew it was him. His big, dark eyes met mine, and he smiled, dropping one eyelid in a slow, smoldering wink. He mouthed a few words, but I heard his voice loud and clear in my mind, as if we had some connection. He knew it too, from the smirk playing on his lips.

. "I watched you work your magic," his deep voice said. "Now you watch me work mine." With that, he disappeared into the building, away from my view, and just out of my reach. New York thrived around me while I was rooted to the ground, unable to move an inch.

. "Clary!" Jace called from behind me, his footfalls loud and heavy as he approached, his breath panting in my ear. "What did you see?" His arms wrapped around my waist, and I leaned in for support, closing my eyes and rerunning Jon's word's through my head.

. "Nothing, just, nothing."

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>PLEASE READ<span>**: This doesn't have to be the ending! If I get **21** (If you haven't guessed it's my favorite number) **reviews** on this chapter...I will give you a bonus scene! Annnnd you can vote on my **poll** if you want a sequel or not! So...Go...Review! :D_


	22. Bonus Chapter

_Alright, you finally earned it, so here's the bonus chapter! I don't own the characters or the song...those belong to Cassandra Claire and He Is We. Also a sequel is coming after this...yay! :)_

* * *

><p>My tired eyes gazed across the court, my frizzy ponytail bouncing against the exposed skin of my neck. The ball thudded against the ground rhythmically as I looked for<p>

someone who was open, someone who could help us win. Jace was covered tight by two guys, meaning someone would be open. I checked each of my teammates, but

none of them were open. That's when it clicked in my brain that I was open. I pulled up and popped a three, hearing the distinct swishing noise as it fell through the net.

"Yes," I heard Jace cheer as he pumped his fist. The ref blew the whistle.

"Time out Bulldogs." We gathered into a circle around our coach, each of us trying to catch our breath and wipe sweat from our flushed faces. My ankle was throbbing, my

knee aching from when the nasty point guard had kicked it, trying to take me out of the game. Nothing would keep me from this game. I tightened my red ponytail as I

checked the score. We were losing by four now, and there was only twenty seconds left. Jace's hand brushed against mine in a comforting way as I straightened my jersey,

absently tracing the number twenty one on its surface. "You got this," he breathed into my ear while everyone else was focused on the coach. I flicked my green eyes

toward him, trying not to be distracted by his sweaty, disheveled hair and serious expression.

"We got this," I told him, putting my hand in the center of the huddle for the ritual yell.

"One, two, three…" the coach counted, squeezing his eyes shut as the team yelled Bulldogs as loudly as we possibly could. Jace stood next to the ref and tossed me the

inbound pass. With the ball pressed firmly between my palms, I was in the zone, where I belonged. Suddenly, my mind wasn't clouded with visions of my demonic father or

dead-but-alive brother. My brain wasn't reeling with questions and clues and half-answers that always seemed to keep me up these nights. Right now it was me, my team,

and the championship game. I put the ball to the floor as I dribbled across the half-court line, seeing the seconds tick by before my eyes. The defense was laid on thick, not

allowing anything inside. I wasn't complaining. My defender was a dark-skinned boy with short brown hair and matching dark eyes. His shoes were worn, fraying at the

seams and dirtied from being worn outside. He was pushing me to the left, thinking my dominant hand was my right. I laughed silently as I drove the lane, laying a layup in

easily, watching as the boy angrily approached me. His teammates were setting up silently for their press breaker, but the boy, number twelve, didn't seem to get the

memo. He was stalking toward me, his face filled with anger.

I stood, dumbfounded as his fist neared my face, forgetting to dodge it as it connected with my cheek, feeling the sting of the impact and hearing the trilling sound of three

ref's whistles blowing in unison and the anger reverberating from the crowd's loud voices. I stumbled backward, being caught by familiar strong arms as number twelve

spat angry words in my face. "Skank! You don't belong here. Even though you look like a boy, you'll never play like one." The words were merged together as my head

spun in circles, running laps around my brain, confusing me profusely.

"You're out of here!" the ref yelled at the boy as he tried to take another swing. Two strong boys from my school walked onto the court and dragged the struggling boy out

of the gymnasium. I was busy shaking my head, trying to clear the fog that had suddenly closed over my eyes. "Technical foul, number twelve." I vaguely heard the ref

talking to the scorer's table.

I tried desperately to shove one foot in front of the other and get to the bench, but my brain didn't seem to be connected to the rest of my body anymore. "I…I can't walk,"

I managed to sputter to Jace, who still had his sweaty arms wrapped around me. I felt him nod and gasped as the ground disappeared from beneath my shiny golden

shoes. Jace had lifted me up, cradling me to his chest bridal-style as the crowd clapped loudly, the noise making my temples throb.

"Clary, Clary we need you," the coach pleaded. I shook my head as Jace sat me down on the bench. "You're our best free throw shooter, but I guess we'll have to deal." He

corrected as he caught Jace's stern glare. "Herondale, you're shooting." Jace nodded, leaning down so that his lips grazed my ear.

"I'll make them for you, baby," he whispered into my ear, before turning onto the court. I tried to focus on his figure, but I couldn't break through the blurry fog. I watched

a blob line up at the free throw line, watched him shoot. I leaned over to the boy sitting next to me, forgetting what his name was.

"Did he make them?" I asked, disorentedly, unable to see if the ball had gone through the net or missed entirely. The boy nodded, his legs bouncing up and down in

appriehnsion Tied. The game was tied with eight seconds left, and the opposing team had the ball.

I coughed, giving my head a good hard shake so that I could clear it. Jace's head whipped toward where I was sitting, and I nodded. He returned it with his own, solemn

head bob. Then, he stole the ball and put it up. The buzzer rang even before the team could get the ball inside bounds again. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the dizzy spell

that overcame me. The splotches of color began to become clearer, like someone had decided to finally focus the lens of a camera. They became jerseys, then bodies, and

then they finally became people.

My eyes scanned the court, searching for a familiar face, the familiar smirk, the familiar sparkle of golden eyes. There he was, running at me, nearly tackling me to the

floor. His lips found mine, and I flinched away automatically, not comfortable with flaunting our relationship in front of so many people. Jace smiled and held my face

against his, willing me to not care what other people were thinking. I did, running my fingers through his hair, wrapping my arms around his neck and stretching up on my

tiptoes to deepen our kiss. A chuckling Jace pulled away, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I heard the catcalls of our teammates and the mumbled _I knew it_'s. Jace

pecked my cheek. "You won the championship game," I told him, wincing against my headache. He pressed a cool palm to my forehead.

"No, we won the championship game." I smiled as he kissed me again, lifting me up off the ground and swinging me in a circle. The coach interrupted to hand Jace the

trophy, but he didn't disapprove.

"I hope I coach their kids," I heard him mutter as he walked to the rest of the team. I caught Jace's eyes, and we burst out laughing. Jace lifted the trophy as everyone

whooped and hollered. Prescott Varsity won the Championship, something that hadn't been done in nearly two and a half decades, despite the great basketball program.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me, Jace," Alec said, smiling as he approached. Magnus was connected to his hip. Apparently winning the biggest basketball game brought all

the skeletons out of everyone's closet. Jace shook his head and pulled me tighter to his side. I swayed on my feet.

"Let's get you home," he said, pressing his forehead against mine. I nodded starting to walk. "Oh, no you don't." He said, as he scooped me up in his arms.

"Is this for my benefit, or yours?" I asked, looking up at him. His mouth twitched into its signature smirk as he met my gaze.

"I believe it is a win-win situation." I snorted, allowing him to carry me to our dorm room, but once we were inside, I protested, squirming out of his grasp. He plopped

down on the sofa, defeated, and pulled me onto his lap. I pressed my back firmly against his chest and sighed. His lips brushed against my neck as he relished in the fact

that we were alone. "Have I ever told you how good of a kisser you were?" I asked quietly.

"Oh, so you keep me around for my kisses?" I laughed quietly, turning around to face him.

"You know…that…and you're looks." His lips found mine, and his hands turned me around so that I was straddling his lap.

"Is that so?" He murmured into my mouth. I nodded, brushing my tongue against his lower lip. He opened his mouth, humming seductively into mine. I leaned in closer,

happy to have the thrumming in my head momentarily silenced.

A loud banging against the door made us jump six feet apart, but Jace promptly pulled me back to his side, brushing his thumb lazily up and down my arm. "Come in!" he

yelled, a little bit annoyed, but his eyes never leaving mine.

"Jace, you're leaving, right now," Izzy commanded as she stomped into the room, a blue dress sweeping blissfully over her tall, slender frame. Silvery heels clicked

delicately against the floor, but despite the sweet, girly outfit, she was still fierce, yanking Jace off the sofa and shoving him away.

"Izzy, you can't kick me out of my own dorm room. That's just not how it works," he said, grasping my hand and shooting me a pleading look, asking for back up. I knew it

was a moot point, since Izzy rarely lost debates between her and Jace.

"Hey, I'll see you later," I said, stretching up to brush my lips against his. He backed away and shot me a _What-the-hek_ look, but then placed a sloppy kiss against the

corner of my mouth, backing out of the room. I slapped Izzy's hands away from where they were appraising my hair, muttering not so nice things about the sweaty quality.

"I just played a game, Iz." She sighed, pulling me to a standing position and carting me to the bathroom.

"Shower, now." She stepped out of the room for a minute. Since I knew there was no way I was getting out of this, I stripped and hopped in, letting the steaming droplets

race down the contours of my skin and splatter against the tile.

Tonight was the Christmas Eve Ball, put on by Prescott and St. Xavier schools. Izzy told me she was going to force me to go, but I didn't think she was going to be this

serious about it. I massaged sweet smelling shampoo through my scalp and step out, swathing myself in the fluffy towel hanging on the hook. "Clear," I called

emotionlessly to Isabelle, who sashayed quickly into the room, taking my hair in her hands and fluffing it all around. She cursed quietly and tossed me a robe.

"We are going to my dorm room," she announced, towing me out of the room. I barely had time to be embarrassed about traversing the halls in my robe since in a minute

flat, we were in Izzy's car speeding away to St. Xavier's.

XoXoX

Izzy shoved me down into a chair in front of her vanity. I was in her dorm room at

St. Xavier, regretting agreeing to let her dress me up for the Christmas Ball. Seriously, it was Christmas Eve, and I had better things to do than to play Barbie with Isabelle.

"Hold still!" she complained, clamping her hand down on the shoulder of my squirming body. I mumbled a sorry as she tsked, but otherwise remained silent as she turned

back to her work.

Her fingers were kneading various hair products into my red locks, trying to relax the carroty curls into flaming waves. Needless to say, it wasn't working. I felt her breath

rush down the fluffy robe she had me wearing as she sighed, dropping her hands from my hair helplessly to her sides. "I suppose if I blow dry it, the curls look frizzy."

I laughed lightly. "Um, more like Troy Polamalu's hair in the Head & Shoulders commercials." Izzy threw her head back and laughed, her smile wide as she turned her

attention to my face. I focused my green eyes on the mirror, prepared to object to anything that wasn't subdued or within my comfort zone. Isabelle noticed this right

away.

"No way, girl," she said, turning the chair away from the mirror so that I faced a wall decorated only with a towel hook, which surprisingly didn't have a towel on it. I

groaned in disapproval, but continued to follow her instructions as she told me to look up, close my eyes, and smile. Various brushes swiped different, shimmering powders

onto my lids and cheeks, engulfing me in a soft cloud of glitter.

"How am I ever going to cover up that bruise?" she complained, gingerly dabbing makeup against my jaw, where a purplish bruise had formed quickly after the boy had

punched me. "Done," she chimed in a sing-song voice, patting the top of my hair to check if it was dry. It wasn't. The wet ringlets clung to my neck and shoulders. "Okay,

new plan," she said, running out of the room and returning with a garment bag. "Dress first…"

The zipper made the traditional unzipping noise as she slid it down the length of the bag. I gasped at the sight, running my fingers of the shimmering green dress, gliding

the tips down the sparkling beads that covered the surface. "Izzy, you shouldn't have—" I began. She dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

"I didn't." She took the dress from the bag and slipped it over my head. I felt the silky inside rest perfectly against every curve of my small frame, hugging me around my

small waist, flowing into a slightly looser skirt. "It was your mom's." I did a small twirl in the dress, wondering what I looked like in the full length mirror.

It's beautiful…" I mused, rubbing the fabric between my thumb and index finger. It sparkled against my pale skin, the silk colored a mossy green. The color matched my

eyes exactly, as it would my mother's. "I love it." Izzy's cool hand shoved me gently back into the chair.

"Sit, your hair is dry." I winced in pain as I felt Izzy twisting my hair atop my head and securing it with pins. "Alright, you baby," she teased lightly, patting my shoulder. I

opened my eyes and looked at my reflection, my breath hitching in my throat as a beautiful woman stared back at me.

Her emerald eyes were rimmed in metallic, gold eyeliner, accentuating the shimmering flecks of gold swirling in the wide, green pools. Her hair was clipped up high with

sparkling golden pins, a few loose curls framing her face and brushing against the creamy skin of her shoulders. It was hard to believe that she was me, that I was her.

"Oh, Izzy," I said, turning to look at her. My hand flew to my throat as I saw her dressed in her dress. How long had I been staring at myself that she had time to slip into

her dress and pile her dark hair atop her head.

Though I had thought she was going in the blue party dress she'd been wearing, she wasn't. Her dress was silver, hugging tightly to her body as it cascaded down like a

shimmering waterfall. Her dark eyes were rimmed in metallic silver, her lips painted up in red. She wore no jewelry except for rhinestone-encrusted rings around her

fingers. .

She grinned at my reaction, looping her arm through mine and leading me to the entry, helping me buckle on a golden pair of gladiator sandals. She handed me a golden

clutch and pulled me out of the room, claiming that we had hurry. "Though being fashionably late never goes out of style, we don't want to miss the party!" I laughed,

closing the door behind us. We stumbled giddily through the halls to the ball room of St. Xavier's, entering hand-in-hand.

My breath was taken away upon entering. The ball room's chandelier's were dark, the room instead being illuminated with a million, white Christmas lights, twinkling like

stars on the perfect, clear night. Bodies swayed to the music of the DJ, hidden behind a row of trees. The floor was scattered with balloons, and benches sat at random

increments, beckoning for couples to enjoy a few moments of solitude on their surface. The pressure of Isabelle's hand left mine, and I turned just in time to see her except

Simon's extended hand. I smiled to myself, scanning the heads of the crowd for the golden face I wanted to see the most.

He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. I had told him that I wasn't going to go to the dance. But shouldn't he have at least been a little suspicious when Izzy shoved him out

of the room? I sighed disappointedly, dropping onto a bench surrounded by pots of pink flowers. All around me, couples danced and swirled, matching corsages adorning

wrists and lapels. It was how I imagined prom in Ohio. The song shifted, filling the room with the soft sounds of a guitar.

A familiar, big hand appeared in my face, a golden ring encircling his finger. "Jace," I breathed, a smile forming on my lips. He had on black pants and a black button down

shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was perfectly messy and his eyes alight with happiness.

"Can I have this dance?" he asked, lifting me from my spot on the bench.

"Certainly," I replied. He led me out to the dance floor, and I was aware of the heads turning to gawk at Jace. He placed one hand on my waist, but the other kept my hand

held tight. "I'm not much of a dancer," I whispered. He chuckled.

"I promise I won't let you fall." With that, He lifted me slightly off the ground, so that just my toes brushed the floor. We were swirling and twirling all around the floor,

amongst other couples that merely swayed to the music. Jace and I were really ballroom dancing. I melted into the moment, the song's lyrics filling my ears.

_Take my hand,_

_I'll teach you to dance._

_I'll spin you around,_

_Won't let you fall down._

Jace's face was inches from mine, his breathing even as he smiled down at me. Lowering his lips to my ear, he whispered, "You look beautiful." His warm breath fanned

over my ear, making me swoon just a little bit more. I bit back against the squeak that was growing in my throat.

"You don't look so bad yourself." He just chuckled.

_Would you let me lead?_

_You could step on my feet._

_Give it a try,_

_It'll be alright._

I saw Izzy and Simon swaying and laughing next to us. The sight brought tears to my eyes. Somehow, over the course of this horrific year, we'd become close friends,

made great memories, and actually were happy. "Jace, where'd you learn to dance like this," I asked quizzically as he maneuvered me through another set of impossible

spins and steps.

His low throaty laugh mingled perfectly with the song as he replied, "Some of us are just good at everything, baby." I slapped his arm.

_The room's hush, hush,_

_And now's our moment._

_Take it in, feel it all, and hold it. _

_Eyes on you, eyes on me._

_We're doing this right._

I inhaled a deep breath, smelling Jace's scent, strongly peppermint with some vanilla, but ultimately a scent that was all his own. I leaned my head against his chest and

felt his chin rest atop my hair. I felt his lips gently kissing the crown of my head, whispering words I couldn't hear against my scalp.

_Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love._

_Spotlight shining, it's all about us._

_It's oh, oh, all,_

_About uh, uh, us._

"Jace?" I murmured against his shirt.

"Hmm…" he hummed against my head.

_And every heart in the room will melt,_

_This is a feeling I've never felt but,_

_It's all about us._

"Earlier, at Taki's…" I began. He was silent as he waited for me to continue. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to gain my strength to say this. We'd said _I love you_ already,

so many times, but something about this seemed more intimate, more personal. "You asked what I was thinking when I drew the rune across your chest." I felt him nod

against my head, and I knew he was eager to hear this.

_Suddenly, I'm feeling brave._

_Don't know what's got into me,_

_Why I feel this way._

_Can we dance, real slow?_

_Can I hold you real close?_

The song restored my confidence, somehow knowing the exact words to give me the strength to say this. "I was thinking about the time when I fell out of the apple tree

that Jonathon had dared me to climb. I was thinking about how I was laying on the ground, helpless, unable to move, and Jonathon ran away, scared of Mo the time when I

fell out of the apple tree that Jonathon had dared me to climb. I was thinking about how I was laying on the ground, helpless, unable to move, and Jonathon ran away,

scared of Mom yelling at him. But _you_ stayed."

_The room's hush, hush,_

_And now's our moment._

_Take it in feel it all and hold it._

_Eyes on you, eyes on me._

_We're doing this right._

"And, and you said that you wouldn't leave me alone, ever. You said you'd take care of me, and protect me."

_Do you hear that love?_

_They're playing our song._

_Do you think we're ready?_

_Oh I'm really feeling it._

_Do you hear that love?_

_Do you hear that love?_

"And down in that dingy basement, I couldn't help but think that you were breaking that promise, that you were leaving me." Jace's lips turned downward slightly, but I

smiled. "But you weren't. You'd been protecting me, just like you said. And then it was my turn to not leave you."

_Do you hear that love?_

_They're playing our song._

_Do you think we're ready yet?_

_Oh I'm really feeling it._

_Do you hear that love?_

_Do you hear that love?_

"I love you, Jace. I love you, always." Jace's mouth opened and closed, as if he didn't know what to say. But suddenly, my face was level with his, his golden eyes staring

deeply into my green ones, absorbing everything in my face.

I smelled mint as his warm breath touched my face, sending goose bumps up my arms. "I love you, too, Clarissa Fairchild. Always have, and always will."

_Lovers dance when they're feeling in love._

_Spotlight shining, it's all about us._

_It's all about us._

_It's all, all, all, all._

_Every heart in the room will melt,_

_This is a feeling I've never felt,_

_Bu it's all about us._

Jace continued to lead me around the ballroom, but his lips descended on mine. They connected with the smallest, feather-light texture, almost like a tickled, a tease. I

released his hand and knotted my fingers into his hair, dragging his mouth against mine and catching his gasp, smiling against his lips.

_Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love._

_Spotlight shining, it's all about us._

_It's oh oh all about us_

_(Hey-ey hey)_

_And every heart in the room will melt,_

_This is a feeling I've never felt but,_

_It's oh, oh,_

_It's all about us._


End file.
